
RETOLD BY 

SARA HAWKS STERLING 






»l»H »n»i r» 



;w: 



& » 

y 0 * \ - < 


V I B ^ 


^ * 
* 


'^0^ 




; ■. . ■a.~^>* a 

ff/iy **v 

Vf. «<- 

s 

^ * V 

«a V 

’* o' 

(-* 9 

rAi ° ^ 




* K - ^ •* 




♦ 4? „ 

^ -v - <** A 'o * 

^ "** S a\ ,vii, ^ 

* v 



^o 
-1 o 

° <H ^ *■ 

, .. . _ > \V -** «<• 

r% *> v >^s j * o* c*v *- t ^' ^ * ‘ l 

^ 3 N 0 ° \ *r 0 ^ ^ 91 " " ^ <. * 

o - v ^ A ^ vO v t s 

”-*■ - - ^ ^ - r> ,-p. A ° o- 

: %* 

c> 

-b 


\ 00 ^ 


* , "<5> 

^ J 

- V * N ‘ 

* x° ® o5 ^ 

V cO o «r *VV 

1 * ^°' , „ ^ * o N 0 ’ V # *V * 

A, C> V * "a 

■*■ « 



A 


,^ V ^ ° 



c** * 

£, -f— t* o N C *^0 * * * ' A \ V > B i, 0 * * 

% °^> o°VW', %, a* 0 * 

°b 0 < r ■’Stla • A v ." " 

x. 0 ^ * 




■i* r\ 
N (V’ 






“ <£ ^ 

* A> 'C 1 

V 6* 

% ?J> 0° ’ ^ 

V; W :A: '*• v* 

P*° $ ^ 

V <*_ ^ w/— s- n C* „ 

> ^ \ v^ ^ >mi lt r <V 

r « “ v- 




be- 



7. 


'V' "<>, ^ 



* \\ 


> ^ rf- 

•"•’ V'"'- o^-.‘ 

.A ' ^ 

/X ^ - 


.aV - 

<P << V « 


(* /y * <r *> S \^ . , „ ^5* y 0 * V ^ A 0 

* . .#' . v ^ , 



* 9 




<V 

" ^ J « tV \> ^r, 

VI » ~ -■ , /V ' * * s ' v „ \ ii, v y "• ' 

V ^ , 

« ^ * MK^ ■* oq 



/> ® 

<>> 

c>-^ * 

O ^ 

* * ®o C, 0 
^ 0^ ° 

/ % ' 

\‘ ^ " * ° r " A V v 

x. <?y ♦ 

> x . ° ^ ° 

z 



*, « ^vc/7 . ^ r\ *— , x ‘>>o>j-’ v rf- 

> j I I 4 ,0* O if „ 0 oX*' C^_ *" 

^■s. 8 on° \V cPv 

^ \S*rt*L*, °* v> *- *o, -> 




% V * 

' ^>» ,A^ * 

^ .< V 


«? - 
L - ^ Jj. 


V I 8 


'» IS S' -i oX*^ ^ 

y °* ** • < V -o— s > . 

. VA rv K n X ^ <r s \ V 



n h 




' 8 * y 0 * 

' >- v 


•* A A 


•r <v ° 


C,* 5 ■>$* 

^ Vf, » 



^ V 


\ 0o ,<. 



of s * . , ^ ^ H 0 ’ A 

.° v IfctfW * <A> V ^‘»A 


f> ^ 

* oV ^ 



V '*& J % 

* * S ' .\^ , B ^ y o * V * A> 

5» r * cA'K A ^ ^ A /y^T-H 1 °<2 f0 * C ° 

*L * . 0 - ^ylsJ « > * o o v ® 

F>° ^ -TV X 00 - - <a " w “ • 

fe* A .<1 ' r> 

iV »' J-.'at^/u f ..-. A t> »' J!<Bl * ■**. . " f 


- V* t? 


x 00 ^. 




, ^ * .9 N o ’ A 

' A l > 



— -_A A A 

> o “ A. 

** °» l #V A»* ^ * 

' / ° <, > > ^ ^ <^**4 s’ \ 

O^ „ClF , 0 N C * <0 * * S A 

* *b Q< o ' 

v : 


1 cV^ 'Av ^ 0 N ° 

.vr S 7 x. rA 



ri '£* ^ 

.. O *5* A 

a \ • m 

< A A <*> *s 

V** A * s s „A , „ A, * 0 * V 



o. y o o A 






























. 

. • > • 
































11 f II 











T 





























































































































































































































































































































, 












































7 


















































i ^ 


































































































\ 


I 


V 















t 


ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN 


The Washington Square Classics 

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland 
and Through the Looking Glass 
Andersen’s Fairy Tales 
Arabian Nights 
Black Beauty 
Grimm’s Fairy Tales 
Kidnapped 

King Arthur and the Knights of the 
Round Table 
Robinson Crusoe 
The Swiss Family Robinson 
Treasure Island 
Water Babies 

The Wonder Book and Tangle wood 
Tales 

Other Titles in Preparation 














u i ; ■- HB 















































































































































Little John seized the stranger’s staff. 


{See page 69) 



ROBIN HOOD 

AND HIS MERRY MEN 


RETOLD BY SARA HAWKS STERLING, 
ILLUSTRATED BY ROWLAND WHEEL- 
WRIGHT AND PUBLISHED BY GEORGE 
W. JACOBS AND COMPANY IN THE 
CITY OF PHILADELPHIA, PENNA. 




Copyright, 1921, by 
George W. Jacobs & Company 


1 



ATI rights reserved 
Printed in U. S. A. 

l\UGi«'2' y 

§>CU622375^ 


To 

Those Dear Children 
MARGMAR and JAN AD 


It is a tale of Robin Hood , 

Which I to you will tell, 

Which being rightly understood , 

I know will please you well. 

Old Ballad. 



CONTENTS 


I. The Birth of Robin 13 

II. How Robin Fled to Sherwood . . 23 

III. How the Earl of Huntingdon Became 

Robin Hood 33 

IV. How Robin Hood Met Little John . . 43 

V. How Robin Became a Butcher . . 51 

VI. How Robin Met Will Scarlet . . 65 

VII. How Robin Won the Golden Arrow . 73 

VIII. How Robin Met the Curtal Friar . . 83 

IX. How Little John Tormented the Sheriff 93 

X. How Maid Marian Came to Sherwood . 107 

XI. How Robin Met Sir Richard of the Lea i 19 

XII. How Sir Richard Paid His Debt . .133 

XIII. The Wedding of Alan a Dale . . .145 

XIV. How Little John Went a-Begging . . 155 

XV. How Robin Teased the Tinker . .165 

XVI. How Robin Outwitted the Bishop . 1 77 

XVII. How Robin Became the Queen's Archer 189 

XVIII. Robin’s Merry Chase . . . .201 

XIX. How Robin Won the Foresters . . 209 

XX. How Robin Rescued Three Squires . 215 

XXI. How Gamble Gold Came to Sherwood . 223 

9 


CONTENTS 


XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 


How Robin Was Beaten by the Beggar 

How the Jolly Pinder Came to the 
Greenwood 

How Robin Became a Potter . 

How Robin Tested the Tanner 

How Robin Went to Church in Not- 
tingham 

How Little John Saved Robin from 
Prison . . 

Robin and the Pedlars . 

How Robin Played the Fisherman 
How Will Scarlet Won a Princess 
How Robin Rescued Will Stutely 
How Robin Fought Guy of Gisborne 

How Sir William Fought with Robin 
Hood 

How the King Came to Sherwood 
The Death of Robin Hood , 


229 

241 

247 

259 

267 

275 

285 

291 

299 

3ii 

321 

333 

339 

349 


10 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Little John seized the stranger’s staff . Frontispiece 

Robin fled towards the forest . . Facing p. 32 

“ My Game!” cried the boy 112 

At these words Ellen looked up 152 

The stranger fetched Robin a knock on the 

crown 262 

“ Tell me what this means ! ” 318 

Robin drew his bow and shot his last arrow . 358 






















THE BIRTH OF ROBIN 


It wasna in the ha’, the ha’, 

Nor in the painted bower, 

But it was in the gude greenwood, 
Amang the lily flower. 


I 


THE BIRTH OF ROBIN 

The summer moon was rising above Earl Rich- 
ard’s castle. The waters of the moat shimmered in 
the soft radiance, and every turret and pinnacle of 
the castle was touched with silver. Not far away, 
Sherwood, the great forest, stretched to distances 
apparently unending in wealth of summer green. 
The Earl himself sat on a bench at the extreme edge 
of the great garden of the castle, gazing out to- 
wards the forest. Only a Squire and one or two re- 
tainers were with him; for the Earl’s wife was dead, 
he had no son, and the daughter, whom he loved best 
of all things in the world, that night delayed her 
coming. 

Presently the Earl stirred, and he spoke, half to 
his Squire, half to himself, with a sigh of pure con- 
tent. 

“ It is a beauteous night indeed, Walter,” he said. 
“ Methinks at such a time as this the fairies might 
be seen in Sherwood, which ’tis said they haunt and 
love well. Nay of a truth, now I bethink me, ’tis 
Midsummer’s Eve. At this time, if ever, the little 
folk would be there. I am half minded to go 
thither and see for myself ; and I will take my Mary 
15 


ROBIN HOOD 


with me. Such a quest would like her well. Why 
tarries Mary so long, I wonder? ” 

He asked the question as if expecting no reply, 
and the Squire Walter merely murmured something 
respectful and non-committal. 

The moon had fully risen now, and the June 
night seemed suddenly chill after the glaring 
warmth of the summer day. The Earl shivered. 

“ Nay,” he exclaimed, rising with a sudden 
grimace as if one of his old wounds had given him 
a twinge, “ nay, it is for younger folk than I to seek 
the fairies in the greenwood. Come, Walter, at- 
tend me. I’ll within, and presently to bed.” 

He moved slowly across the gardens and the 
terraces, with a slight occasional halt in his gait, due 
to the sudden stiffness that the evening chill had 
brought him. His Squire and the servants followed 
him. Presently the great doors of the castle closed 
behind them. 

Scarcely had they disappeared than a casement 
in one of the turrets fronting on the gardens opened 
cautiously, and a lovely girl’s head appeared at the 
window. She looked out furtively, and presently 
uttered a low cry, like the call of a dove to its mate. 
A moment, and her call was answered in kind and 
as cautiously, and there appeared from the hedges 
bordering the terraces a tall, handsome young man, 
rather shabbily attired. He clasped his hands, and 
murmured in a voice which while suppressed was 
audible to the girl in the window: 

16 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“Mary! My dear! My love!” 

“ Hist! ” she whispered sharply, and the golden 
head suddenly vanished from the casement. The 
young man waited, trying very hard to look indif- 
ferent, lest some sudden surprise should come from 
the castle. It was only a moment, however, before 
the girl’s head appeared again. She whispered 
hurriedly : 

“ It was my father. He came to hid me good- 
night, and to ask why I had not joined him in the 
garden. He is going to bed now. We must wait 
a little. Go, Will, and in half an hour return. 
Hast the red cloak ready? ” 

“Ay, sweetheart, and my arms ache to catch and 
hold thee safe! ” he answered. 

“Soon, very soon!” she whispered. Then she 
blew him a light kiss from her finger-tips, and again 
she disappeared. He heaved a gusty sigh when 
she had vanished. He was a huge fellow, and sim- 
ple and loving of heart, as such giants often are. 
He went back into the hedge and waited, as she had 
bidden him. 

A half hour later he returned, carrying a large 
red cloak. The castle was silent. He looked anx- 
iously in every direction, but saw no sign of life. 
He looked up at the casement, and again gave the 
low call of the dove to its mate. In reply, Lady 
Mary appeared at the window. This time, how- 
ever, she climbed to the sill. 

“ Be ready, Will! ” she said simply as he moved 
17 


ROBIN HOOD 


towards her. Then he held out the scarlet cloak, 
and she leaped into it without fear. She landed, 
however, not in the cloak, but in his strong arms. 
He held her close for an instant. 

“ Oh, haste, oh, haste!” she panted, nestling to 
him. “ If my father finds us out, I doubt me not 
he will hang thee on yonder wall. Quick, Will, 
quick, to the forest ! ” 

“It is Midsummer’s Eve,” he murmured. 

“ The fairies will be good to us, I know,” she 
answered dauntlessly. “ To Sherwood, Will, to 
Sherwood ! ” 

Holding her carefully in his arms, he started 
obediently in the direction of the forest. Once she 
stirred, and made as if she would get down and go 
by his side instead of being carried in his arms ; but 
he held her fast in a grip as strong as iron yet as 
tender as a woman’s. She gave a happy little 
laugh, and ceased the attempt. 

“ Oh, Will, how strong thou art ! ” she murmured 
contentedly. “ How glad I am that after all these 
months since our wedding, we are at last away to- 
gether! I trust Father Francis will not suffer 

when my father finds that he ” 

“ Thy father loves thee well,” said Will simply. 

“ Perchance he ” 

She shuddered in his arms. 

“ Me he might forgive,” she said in a low voice. 
“ Thee he would never pardon. I know it ! Death 
would be thy punishment, naught else. It is for 
1$ 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


thy sake I flee now with thee — ay, and for mine; for 
what were life without thee, beloved? Oh, faster, 
Will, faster, lest he overtake us! ” she cried, looking 
back anxiously towards the castle. 

Obediently he quickened his already rapid pace a 
little, never seeming to falter or grow weary; and 
presently into its cool moonlit depths, Sherwood at 
last received them. A little farther, and Will 
paused for the first time. At the foot of a giant 
oak tree he laid his dear burden gently down be- 
neath the spreading branches. 

Great was the hue and cry in the Earl’s castle 
when it was discovered that the Lady Mary had 
fled. Giant Will, the huge yeoman, who yet it was 
whispered came of gentle blood, had also disap- 
peared. Almost every one in the castle except the 
Earl himself had known of the love between Lady 
Mary and the handsome retainer, but none save the 
Chaplain, Father Francis, knew of their marriage. 
When at last the priest told the Earl that the two 
were wedded, the latter became perfectly white 
with rage. 

“ By Our Lady, to whom my child was dedicated, 
and by all the Blessed Saints,” he said, bringing 
down his huge fist on the table by which he was sit- 
ting when Father Francis broke the tidings to him, 
“ nay, by the Holy Trinity, thou shalt pay dearly 
for this, thou scurvy priest! Yon miscreant who 
hath so deceived my child shalt hang, when I have 


ROBIN HOOD 


caught him, from the highest pinnacle of the 
castle/’ 

Father Francis looked fearlessly at the angry 
Earl. 

“ Nay,” he said, “ now thou art ridden by the sin 
of pride. Will is of gentle blood, though his pov- 
erty caused him to serve thee as retainer. He is no 
unworthy husband for your daughter.” 

“Husband!” shouted the Earl furiously. 
“ Husband, quotha! He shall be no son of mine ! ’’ 

“ Thou talkest idly, proud man,” said the priest. 
“As I have told thee, they were wedded by me a 
twelvemonth since, here in the chapel of the castle.” 

“And as I have told thee,” answered the Earl be- 
tween his teeth, “ thy frock shall not save thee.” 

Father Francis bowed his head. 

“As thou wilt,” he said quietly. “ My body is at 
thy mercy. My soul is God’s, to Whom I com- 
mit it! ” 

“ Bid a score of my men make ready! 99 said the 
Earl to one of his retainers who stood near. “ Let 
the search be made in every direction until this fel- 
low and my daughter be found. Harm her not, 
but bring him instantly before me. I myself will 
go with the men who search the forest.” 

Then was there great racing and chasing 
throughout the castle, and presently in the country 
round about. Despite the apparent zeal of the pur- 
suers, however, there was much secret sympathy 
with the lovers. The Lady Mary had always been 
20 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


held high in the affections of her people ; and most 
of them were fond of big Will, with his great body 
and his gentle heart. Many felt that the Earl’s 
daughter had chosen a man. Forth presently they 
rode, nevertheless, at the Earl’s command, with a 
great jingling of spurs and glitter of armor, to- 
wards the four points of the compass, as he had 
bidden them. The Earl himself, as he had said, 
was with those who went towards the forest. The 
Lady Mary had always loved Sherwood, and he felt 
that there he would find her. 

His instinct had led him aright. It was towards 
sunset one day when at last he found his daughter. 
Underneath a great oak tree he saw two figures, one 
lying on the moss, the other kneeling beside it. The 
Earl gave a great shout of triumph, and spurred his 
horse. He was trembling with rage as he reached 
the tree. 

The cruel words he had been about to utter died 
upon his lips. Instead he bared his head and knelt 
beside Will’s quiet figure. The two strong men 
wept bitterly together. 

Lady Mary lay there dead at the foot of the oak 
tree, and not far away, amid a clump of forest lilies, 
a tiny baby kicked and crowed, and clenched its 
dimpled fists. 

Presently the Earl rose from beside his daugh- 
ter’s body, and going over to the child, he lifted it in 
his arms. 

“ Thou art my only daughter’s child,” he said 
21 


ROBIN HOOD 


simply. “ Father Francis shall christen thee, and 
thou shalt be heir to all my lands. As for thee,” 
he went on, turning to Will, where he still knelt be- 
side Lady Mary’s body, “ as for thee, if thou didst 

receive thy desert ” for his anger was still hot 

against his daughter’s husband. 

Will lifted his head and looked at the Earl with 
such utter desolation in his eyes that the Earl’s 
stern heart was softened in spite of himself. 

“ Thou shalt have the child, proud Earl,” said 
Will slowly, “ since thou canst do more for him 
than I. Me thou shalt see no more. Natheless rail 
not at me for her sake. I was her true love, and 
she was mine. F are well ! ” 

He knelt once more beside Lady Mary’s body, 
and kissed the pale lips. Then he rose, and walked 
slowly away through the forest. The Earl, hold- 
ing the child, made no effort to stop him. He dis- 
appeared in th$ light of the setting sun, and he held 
true to his promise. The Earl never saw him 
again. 

So Robin was born in the greenwood, beneath the 
oak tree and among the lilies. 


22 


II 


HOW ROBIN FLED TO SHERWOOD 


Robin Hood he was a tall young man , 

And fifteen winters old, 

And Robin Hood he was a proper young man, 
Of courage stout and bold. 


II 


HOW ROBIN FLED TO SHERWOOD 

The Earl of Huntingdon was true to his word. 
The child of his only daughter was brought up with 
every device of gentle breeding, and was made his 
heir. Little Robert had a happy life. He was 
taught by good Father Francis in the duties of his 
religion and a little book-learning; very little, be- 
cause it was considered neither manly nor noble to 
be too well versed in such matters. His fathers 
Squires instructed him in the use of the sword ; and 
some of the retainers in handling the good old Eng- 
lish weapons of the quarterstaff and the bow and 
arrows. Y Occasionally, wandering minstrels came 
to the castle, and little Robert, stretched at his 
grandfather’s feet before the great open fire, would 
listen eagerly to the noble tales of King Arthur and 
his Knights of the Table Round. Best of all things 
in his life, however, he loved to wander in Sherwood 
Forest, and to hear the whiz of the arrow as it cleft 
the air. 

The Earl took great pride in his accomplish- 
ments, and in the child himself; for he was a hand- 
some boy, with his father’s sturdy build and much 
25 


ROBIN HOOD 


of his mother’s beauty. He was told very little 
about his parents when he was old enough to won- 
der and to question. When it was said that both of 
them were dead, it was probably the truth. There 
were many wars waging in the world at that time, 
and a strong fellow like Will would have been wel- 
come in any army. His fate was never known. 

Little Robert was well beloved by the people 
both of the castle and of the courtyard. Not only 
was this because he was the grandson of the Earl, 
nor even because his father and mother had been 
general favorites. There was something about the 
lad himself that drew all hearts to him. He bore 
himself in the same fashion to high and low. He 
was as much interested in the poor hinds of cottage 
and hut as in the lords and ladies of high degree 
who sometimes came to the castle. He had been 
christened Robert; but Robin was the name by 
which he came to be called affectionately both by 
gentle and simple. Even the Earl used it, and the 
real one seemed likely to be forgotten altogether. 

Robin was only thirteen when the Earl died, and 
the child, under guardianship, succeeded to his 
grandfather’s vast estates. He mourned the old 
man’s death bitterly; for the Earl, stern to others, 
had been gentle to him; but when the first shock of 
the loss was over, the young Earl could not but find 
life still a happy thing, with his great castle filled 
with devoted retainers/ the joys of the chase in 
Sherwood Forest, and the daily pleasures of prac- 
26 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


tice with the sword and the homelier quarterstaff. 
He was just fourteen when the Earl of Fitz waiter, 
who had been a close friend of Robin’s grandfather, 
came, accompanied by his wife and daughter, to visit 
the young heir of his old friend. Marian Fitzwalter 
was about two years younger than Robin, a gallant 
little lass, straight and slim as a handsome boy, and 
almost as devoted to the chase as the lad himself. 
They immediately became great friends. A happy 
fortnight passed for the two young people, spent in 
wandering through Sherwood together, and in try- 
ing their skill with the bow and arrow. Then they 
parted sorrowfully, not to meet again for several 
years. 

It was just a twelvemonth later that Robin’s 
whole life changed. 

On his fifteenth birthday, a beautiful day in 
June, Robin left the castle unattended, and went 
walking gayly on his way to Nottingham, the town 
near by. It was in his mind to dine at the public 
inn at ^Nottingham, a thing he loved well to do, for 
he was fond of meeting people of every kind and 
condition. As he strode briskly through the forest, 
carolling a gay song, his bow slung across his back, 
his quiver of arrows by his side, he was a goodly 
sight to see. Muscular he was, and tall of a height 
beyond the ordinary. His eyes were frank and 
fearless, and his face was burnt from much exposure 
to wind and weather. Altogether he appeared as 
fine a specimen of sturdy English boyhood as might 
27 


ROBIN HOOD 


have been found throughout the length and breadth 
of the land that day. 

As he approached the Saracen’s Head, the inn at 
Nottingham, he saw a little group of the King’s 
foresters seated around the table in the yard. 
They had been drinking rather heavily, judging 
from their appearance and from the many over- 
turned, empty tankards near by. On the approach 
of the young Earl, they greeted him civilly enough ; 
but with somewhat sour expressions. It was well 
known even then that Robin was no friend to the 
King’s foresters. Often had his generous heart been 
touched by the want and anguish of the poor; and 
he could see no reason, with such herds of deer fill- 
ing the vast forests, why one of the King’s subjects 
should suffer hunger. It was the duty of the for- 
esters to guard the royal game. 

He nodded graciously in answer to their greet- 
ing, and seating himself at one of the tables, called 
for ale. 

“ What news, good men? ” he asked idly. 

“ What news? Wouldst thou fain know? ” said 
one of the men, in rather a surly fashion. “ Well, I 
will tell thee. Our King hath provided a shooting 
match.” 

Robin’s face flushed with delight. 

“ That is good news indeed! ” he cried brightly. 
“I’m ready with my bow!” and he touched his 
beloved weapon caressingly where it lay on the 
bench beside him. 

28 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


The forester who had spoken of the match gave a 
short scornful laugh. 

“Thou!” he said contemptuously. “A boy so 
young as thou draw a bow before our King ! Thou 
art not able to draw one string! ” 

This was a trying taunt to a boy of fifteen who 
rather prided himself, and justly so, on his skill in 
archery. He opened his lips to retort sharply; but 
his good breeding prevailed. It was not for a 
gentleman to squabble with a servant. After an 
instant’s pause, he said calmly: 

“ I’ll wager twenty marks that, Our Lady will- 
ing, I’ll hit a mark at a hundred rods; nay, more — 
I’ll kill a hart as well.” 

The foresters exchanged meaning glances with 
one another. There was a moment’s silence after 
Robin’s challenge. Then one of the men said with 
apparent coolness: 

“Well, well, we shall see! Come, young sir, 
show us whether thine actions tally with thy 
words.” 

“That will I gladly!” quoth Robin; and with 
that he started up and seized his bow. “ Will one 
of ye place the target, or shall I? ” 

“ Let it be yon beech tree,” said one of the 
foresters. 

Robin laughed contemptuously. 

“Too easy! ” he said. “ ’Twere mere child’s 
play! Nay, I’ll show ye my mark, and if it like ye 
not, ye may choose another.” 

29 


ROBIN HOOD 


He walked towards a young willow tree that 
stood near the doorway of the inn, broke off a 
branch, peeled it with rapid, accustomed fingers, 
and stuck it into the ground. When the slender 
quivering target stood in its place, Robin ran gayly 
back and seized his bow. 

“Now, as I promised, a hundred rods away!” 
he cried, and took his place. 

“ Are ye all satisfied with my mark? ” he asked, 
and even as he spoke, aimed with apparent care- 
lessness. 

Straight flew the arrow and the willow wand was 
cleft in twain. 

There was a low murmur of involuntary admir- 
ation at the boy’s skill, and Robin stood smiling 
with pardonable pride. The next moment he 
turned and gazed in the direction of the forest. 

“ Now, dearest Lady and Virgin,” he prayed, 
“ send me, I beseech thee, a hart, that I may show 
these scoffing hinds what I can do ! ” 

It was a very boyish prayer, and perhaps for that 
reason was answered. Scarcely had the murmured 
words left his lips than Robin gave a shout of joy. 
A hart emerged from the forest, and began to run 
swiftly across the open space beyond, as if be- 
wildered. Robin again raised his bow. The next 
moment, the hart gave a great leap into the air, and 
fell dead. 

Robin turned to the foresters, smiling with boy- 
ish delight. 


30 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Some of you go pick it up! ” he said, with a 
lordly wave of his hand. Then he chuckled in 
frank youthful conceit. “ How say you? ” he said. 
“ Is not the wager mine — ay, even if it were for a 
thousand pounds? ” 

“ Nay,” said one of the foresters sharply. “ The 
wager is none of thine. Knowest thou not the pen- 
alty for slaying one of the King’s deer? Get thee 
hence in haste, thou young braggart, lest we baste 
thy sides for thee ! ” 

Robin turned pale with dismay. The penalty for 
slaying one of the King’s deer was death or mutila- 
tion. He knew the law well, for he had seen many 
sad instances of its enforcement among the poor 
hinds about his own castle. He had shot the hart 
almost instinctively, never pausing to think whose 
it was. Moreover, he realized that the whole thing 
had been a trap, and that he was in the midst of 
enemies. He saw not a single friendly face in the 
group that surrounded him. 

He picked up his bow and his quiver and turn- 
ing, began to walk slowly away from the inn. 
As he reached the gate, there was a sudden guffaw 
of scornful laughter. 

“ Ho! ho ! 99 roared the forester who had caused 
most of the trouble, “ I thought the youngster 
would be cowed! No archer is he, despite his lucky 
shots ! ” 

Robin stopped short, his face flushing with rage. 
He wheeled towards them. 

31 


ROBIN HOOD 


“No archer, am I? ” he called out, his heart hot 
with anger, his clear young voice shaking with fury. 
“No archer, am I? Say so again! ” and once more 
with apparent carelessness of aim, flew the un- 
erring arrow. 

The next instant, the boy gave a cry of horror, 
and turned, fleeing with stumbling steps towards 
the forest. It was an age when human life was held 
cheap; but Robin had never before killed a man. 
He groaned as he ran, and covered his eyes with his 
hands as if to shut out the sight he had seen of the 
forester reeling and sinking to his death with 
Robin’s arrow in his heart. 

Robin had killed one of the King’s deer, and he 
had slain a King’s forester. Despite his noble birth 
and his wide lands, he was an outlaw by his own act. 
Henceforth, if captured, he was subject to maim- 
ing or death. With strangling sobs, he ran blindly 
towards the place he loved best, and reached at 
length the friendly shades of the forest. There 
finally he paused under the great oak tree where 
his grandfather had so often told him he had been 
born. 

“ Ah, woe worth the day! ” he cried aloud, clutch- 
ing his head in his hands in anguish, as he threw 
himself down on the soft moss. “ Would now that 
here where I was born I might also die! ” 


32 



Robin fled towards the forest. 




Ill 

HOW THE EARL OF HUNTINGDON 
BECAME ROBIN HOOD 


Hearken, good yeomen, 

Comely, courteous and good, 

One of the best that ever bore arms, 
His name was Robin Hood. 


Ill 


HOW THE EARL OF HUNTINGDON BECAME 
ROBIN HOOD 

Robin was young, but he was no coward. After 
his first outburst of tempestuous sobs when he 
found himself safe in the forest, he calmed down 
with a mighty effort, and sat upright, his chin 
propped in his hands, his brow knitted with thought. 
His bow lay beside him on the moss, his quiver still 
hung by his side. He sat there for a while, wonder- 
ing what was best to do. Should he go home? His 
retainers would rally to his defence, he was certain, 
but at the risk of their own lives and freedom. Had 
he the right to demand the sacrifice? Now that he 
was an outlaw, should he return to the castle? 

Presently a cautious rustling sound in a clump 
of trees near by startled him. His hand instinctively 
clutched at his bow. The next instant, he sprang 
upright, feeling for an arrow. A man’s head ap- 
peared from among the bushes; and then a tall fel- 
low whom he had never seen before had come from 
the trees towards him. Seeing Robin’s defensive 
attitude, the stranger shook his head and smiled, 
stretching out his hands to show that he held no 
weapon. At this Robin lowered his bow, and stood 
35 


ROBIN HOOD 


waiting. The man was dressed in shabby forest 
green. 

“ Fear not, young sir! ” he exclaimed in a gruff 
but kindly voice. “ I do not seek your harm, but 
your good! ” 

Somewhat reassured, Robin looked at him ques- 
tioningly. 

The man came forward and sat down at Robin’s 
feet. 

“Will you not sit here beside me, and listen to 
what I have to say? ” he asked deferentially. “ I 
would tell you that which I think you would find it 
well to hear.” 

Robin dropped down on the moss beside him. 

The stranger glanced cautiously about him ; then 
leaned forward, and spoke in a low whisper. 

“ News travels fast in the forest,” he said. 
“ Fear not! I know why you are here.’* 

Despite his utmost efforts, tears rose to Robin’s 
eyes. The stranger put his huge paw on the lad’s 
hand with a gesture that was almost a caress. 

“ It is no shame to kill what should be shared by 
all,” he said; “ nay, nor even to have slain one who 
stands for such tyranny. I have come to you, lad, 
as a messenger.” 

Robin looked at him in dismay. A messenger! 
From whom? Was he from the King? Had he 
come to lead Robin captive to mutilation or death? 

“Nay, fear not!” repeated the man, perhaps 
reading Robin’s thoughts in his wide eyes and 
36 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


heightened color. “ I am a messenger from some 
good comrades who invite you to become one of 
them. They are all men who have suffered from 
tyranny and injustice, even as you; men who like 
you are liable to punishment if captured. We live 
here in the forest, and we have often seen you al- 
though you have not seen us.” 

Robin looked at him wonderingly. 

“ Here in the forest! ” he repeated. “ Methought 
I knew all that is and all that lives in Sherwood.” 

The man shook his head and laughed. 

“ I will show you that you are wrong,” he said. 
“ Come with me.” 

“Ay, I will come,” said Robin, rising. “Will 
you tell me your name? ” 

“ My name,” answered the stranger, “ is Will 
Stutely.” 

“ Will Stutely,” repeated Robin. “ Oh, ay, I 

have heard of thee! I have heard ■” He bit 

his lips sharply and paused. 

“ If you have heard of me, you have heard a sad 
story,” said Will simply. “My mother was a 
widow, and her farm was confiscated by my Lord, 
the Bishop of Hereford, because it happened to lie 
on the edge of his lands where he wanted an extra 
bit of ground. I stood up against the Lord 
Bishop’s men, and I slew three of them, so was 
forced to flee. My mother died of fear and grief. 
I came here to the forest, and met those whom you 
shall shortly meet.” 


37 


ROBIN HOOD 


Robin put his hand on the man’s shoulder as they 
walked along together. 

“ Ay, that is what I heard,” he said simply. 
“ Thou hast suffered much.” 

It was nearly sunset now, and in the less thickly 
wooded parts of the forest, the dying day filled the 
greenwood with rosy light. Presently Will and 
Robin smelt the appetizing odor of broiling veni- 
son; and Robin realized that he had eaten nothing 
since morning and that he was ravenous. A mo- 
ment, and they came into an open glade, with a fire 
roaring in the midst, around which sat or stood 
about a score of men, dressed like Will Stutely, in 
shabby forest green. 

When they saw Will and Robin, they gave a 
shout of joy, and some ran forward to greet them. 

“ Welcome, young Robin,” they cried, “ welcome 
to Sherwood ! ” 

“ One of you give him to eat without delay,” said 
Will Stutely. “ He must be famished. After we 
have dined, we can talk together.” 

Obediently, they led Robin to a rudely set table 
on the greensward, and presently the venison was 
served, with plenty of good bread and ale. Then 
the fire was allowed to die down, and the men sat 
or lay about on the mossy ground, and told Robin 
why they had brought him to this meeting. One 
after another told the story of why he was now an 
outlaw; and in no case was the reason one of terrible 
crime or awful sin. They were tales of brave at- 
38 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


tempts to resist oppression from proud Churchmen 
or haughty knight; of valiant rising against injus- 
tice in law and man. Robin’s generous young 
heart, always kindly and quick to protect the poor 
and the downtrodden, burned hot within him as he 
listened. He resolved that he would give the rest 
of his life to avenge their wrongs and those of others 
like them. Then his high mood sank. He remem- 
bered that he too was outlaw now, even as they. 

After a time, there was a pause, and all eyes 
turned to Will Stutely. 

Will said quietly: 

“ Thou seest, lad, what we are; outlaws, yet not 
truly criminal. One brought us word of what hap- 
pened to thee this day, and we thought — We need a 
leader. Wilt fill that place to us? Thou art the 
youngest here; but also thou art the only one of 
gentle blood and breeding. Natheless, thou art, 
like us, outlaw. Now that thy castle is thine no 
more, wilt be one of us here in the greenwood? ” 

Robin looked around him at the score of kindly, 
weather-beaten faces, all turned towards him now 
in trust and hope. Again his heart rose in generous 
ardor; and this time also with joy and pride. 

“ Ay,” he answered, his face flushing, “ I will 
be your leader, since you so desire, young as I am ; 
but hark ye, men! ” and he sprang to his feet, his 
face alight. “ Remember, having been oppressed 
ourselves, we must aid those in like pass. Nay, 
more! Ye must hold all women sacred, for the 
39 


ROBIN HOOD 


sake ” — he bared his head revereptly — “ for the 
sake of Our dear Lady, whom for my mother’s sake 
as well as for her own, I love. Outlawed we are 
through misfortune, but criminal we must never be! 
If ye consent to these conditions, I will do what you 
desire.” 

Then there arose a mighty shout which made the 
darkening forest ring again; and Robin’s health 
was drunk in good English ale, and since he was 
beginning a new life, it was proposed that he should 
choose a new name. So Robin shortened his title 
of Huntingdon into Hood, and henceforth he said 
he would be Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest. 

Great was the anxiety at the castle when the 
dearly beloved young Earl did not return in the 
late afternoon, at the time he had expected. Greater 
still was the lamentation, the dismay, when tidings 
came of what had happened, and when the Sheriff 
of Nottingham rode up to the gates of the castle, 
and declared that Robert, Earl of Huntingdon, 
was outlaw in the King’s name, and that his domains 
were now the property of the crown. Within a few 
days, the castle was deserted save for a few of the 
Sheriff’s officers, who lingered to see whether by 
any chance the young Earl might be concealed in 
some secret room therein, or whether he might wan- 
der back from without. Neither event happened, 
however, and after a time even the Sheriff’s officers 
departed, and the castle was left in empty desolation 
40 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


until the King’s pleasure should be known in regard 
to it. 

Some of Robin’s retainers heard where he was, 
and joined him in the forest. Others went to Not- 
tingham, yet others to London. The band in Sher- 
wood Forest grew larger day by day. Not all that 
joined it were outlaw. Some were men who real- 
ized the injustice of the Crown and of the Church 
as they were at that time, and who chose to be 
among the ranks of the oppressed rather than of 
the oppressing, 

Robin grew tall and strong in the healthful out- 
door life. His skill with the bow became greater 
than ever; and despite his youth, his men rendered 
him both obedience and love. That inborn personal 
charm of his attracted to him nearly everyone with 
whom he came in contact. The Sheriff of Notting- 
ham raged and stormed in vain. It was perfectly 
well known that Robin was in the forest, but it 
seemed impossible to capture him. The Sheriff’s 
officers were afraid of Robin’s archers ; and the King 
in London seemed very far away in those days. 
The poor loved Robin and his men; for they held 
to the compact that Robin had proposed. Many a 
starving widow was provided with food, many a 
poor, pretty maid with a dowry taken from the 
coffers of some proud Bishop or overbearing 
Earl. The Church was corrupt in those days, 
and often a priest or Abbot unworthy of his sa- 
cred calling. Robin distinguished between the 
41 


ROBIN HOOD 


Church and its officers. He was very devout, and 
never failed to be present at a service on Sundays 
and holy days, despite the fact that he risked cap- 
ture and death in doing so. The good clergymen 
who realized their sacred duties and who lived 
lives of simple piety came to love Robin as much as 
did their people; for they realized that he meant 
nothing but kindness to those who deserved it. 

At last five years had passed, and Robin’s score 
of followers had increased to five times that num- 
ber. He had a special signal by which he always 
summoned his men when he needed their presence 
— a triple winding of his horn. They loved him 
well, and it was on the whole a happy life. Some- 
times, however, in the forest, especially when the 
moonlight silvered the leaves and turned Sherwood 
into a magic land, Robin thought of sweet Marian, 
the Earl of Fitzwalter’s daughter, and wondered 
whether she ever thought of him, and whether he 
would ever see her again in all the beauty of what 
he was sure would be her lovely young womanhood. 
He had heard that she was now in London, and 
lady-in-waiting to the Queen. What right had he 
even to think of her — the outlaw, Robin of Sher- 
wood? 


42 


IV 


HOW ROBIN HOOD MET LITTLE JOHN 


When Robin Hood was about tiventy years old , 
He happened to meet Little John, 

A jolly , brisk blade, right fit for the trade, 

For he was a lusty young man. 


iy 

HOW ROBIN HOOD MET LITTLE JOHN 

Robin Hood was about twenty years old when 
he first met his best friend, Little John. 

“ We have had no sport these fourteen long 
days,” said Robin to his men one morning. “ Tarry 
here, for I will go alone in search of adventure ; but 
look you listen for my call, for I will blow my horn 
if I become hard-pressed.” 

He shook hands with those nearest him as was 
his custom, and strode forward through the green- 
wood, whistling merrily, and swinging his bow as 
he went. On he walked, rejoicing in the beauty of 
the May morning, and at last on the outskirts of the 
forest, he came to a little brook, spanned by a very 
low and narrow bridge. As Robin neared the 
bridge, he saw that a stranger was crossing it 
towards him. An immense fellow he was. Robin 
was nearly six feet tall at this time; but the other 
man was more than a foot greater in height. His 
limbs were large and muscular, and he carried a 
huge quarterstaff. 

Nothing daunted, however, Robin strode for- 
45 


ROBIN HOOD 


ward, and the two men met in the centre of the 
bridge. They stood a moment in silence, eyeing 
each other; and then Robin spoke. 

“ Let me pass, stranger! ” he said. “ If thou dost 
not, I’ll show thee right Nottingham play!” and 
he fingered his bow suggestively, and drew an arrow 
from his quiver, a broad one with a goose wing. 

The stranger gave a roar of laughter. 

“ Ha, young one! ” he said. “ I’ll liquor thy hide 
if thou oiferest but to touch the string! ” 

Robin was accustomed to much deference, and 
he was conscious of his own skill. He grew crimson 
with rage. 

“ Thou dost prate like an ass!” he said calmly. 
“ If I were but to bend my bow, I could send an 
arrow through thy proud heart before thou couldst 
strike one blow! ” 

“ Coward!” the stranger cried contemptuously. 
“ There thou standest, well armed with a long bow, 
to shoot at my heart, while I have naught but this 
staff in my hand.” 

Robin looked at him thoughtfully. 

“ I scorn the name of coward,” he answered pres- 
ently. “ Perchance thou art right. Wherefore I 
will e’en lay by my long bow, and take a staff to try 
the truth of thy manhood.” 

So saying, he stepped to a thicket near by, and 
chose a ground-oak staff. Then he came back upon 
the bridge, and again faced the stranger. 

“ See my staff! ” he said. “ It is tough and lusty. 

46 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


Now play we here on the bridge. Whoever shall 
fall in, the other shall win the battle.” 

“ With all my whole heart! ” replied the stranger. 
“ I scorn to give out even in the very least.” 

So they fell to without more words, and began to 
flourish their staves about. First Robin gave the 
stranger such a bang that it made his very bones 
ring. 

“ Thou must he repaid! ” cried the stranger then. 
“ I’ll give you as good as you bring ! So long as I 
am able to handle my staff, I scorn to die in your 
debt!” 

Then heartily each went to it, and so fast and 
furious followed their blows, it seemed as if they 
were threshing corn. 

At last the stranger gave Robin so hard a crack 
on the crown that blood came. The sight of his own 
blood enraged Robin, and his blows became even 
more fierce. So thick and fast did he lay on indeed 
that the stranger began to smoke with his exertions 
as if he were on fire. He gave Robin a mighty blow 
at last which tumbled him into the brook. Then 
the stranger stood back, his hands on his hips, and 
roared with laughter. 

“ I prithee, good fellow, and where art thou 
now? ” he cried merrily. 

Robin could not forbear laughing also, though 
somewhat ruefully, for he was a good sportsman, 
and knew how to take defeat. 

“ Good faith! ” he answered, sputtering a little, 
47 


ROBIN HOOD 


for a good deal of the water of the brook had gotten 
into his mouth and eyes. “ I’m e’en in the flood, 
and floating along with the tide ! ” 

Then he shook the water out of his hair, and 
rubbed it out of his eyes, and presently made his 
way to the bank, and pulled himself up by a thorn- 
bush. 

The stranger still stood on the bridge, gazing 
down at him. 

“ I needs must acknowledge thou art a brave 
soul ! ” said Robin, looking back at him admiringly. 
“ I’ll no longer contend with thee! I needs must 
acknowledge, too, that thou hast won the day, and 
so our battle is ended.” 

With that he blew a loud triple blast on his 
bugle. 

Presently through the trees came running great 
numbers of men, all clad in Lincoln green, but no 
longer so shabby as they had been when Robin had 
become their leader. They came up swiftly and 
surrounded him. 

“ Oh, what is the matter? ” quoth Will Stutely. 
“ You are wet to the skin, good master! ” 

“ No matter!” said Robin, laughing. He 
pointed to the tall stranger on the bridge. “ Yon 
man in fighting tumbled me into the brook,” he said 
with a chuckle at his own plight. 

“Then indeed he shall not escape scot free!” 
cried Will, and two or three of the men made for 
the stranger with the evident intention of serving 
48 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


him as he had served their master. Robin, how- 
ever, stayed them with a look. 

“ Nay/’ he said, “ forbear! He’s a stout fellow.” 
Then he spoke courteously to the stranger: “ Be 
not afraid, good friend! No one shall harm thee! 
These bowmen wait upon me, and there are five 
times as many as are here. Wilt thou be one of us? 
If so, thou shalt straightway have my livery, and 
all other accoutrements that befit a brave man. 
Speak up, thou jolly blade, and never fear! I’ll 
teach you the use of the bow, and to shoot at the fal- 
low deer.” 

The stranger gave a great roar of good-natured 
laughter, and strode across the bridge to where 
Robin stood. 

“ Here’s my hand!” he cried, offering Robin a 
huge paw. “ I’ll serve you with all my whole heart ! 
My name is John Little. Doubt not that I shall 
play my part well.” 

“ John Little!” repeated Will Stutely medita- 
tively, gazing at the man’s huge bulk. “ J ohn 
Little ! " And at that Robin and all his men roared 
with laughter. 

John Little looked slightly offended. 

“ Nay, now,” said Will Stutely in a tone of 
apology, laying his hand on the giant’s arm, “ I will 
be thy godfather, and rebaptize thee. Thy name 
suits thee ill, and must needs be altered. Come, we 
will have a christening feast.” 

Then gayly the outlaws turned back into the 
49 


ROBIN HOOD 


forest, and in one of their accustomed gathering 
places, a feast was prepared. A brace of fat does 
were roasted by the fire, and flagons of humming 
liquor were produced. They called it, as Will 
Stutely had proposed, a christening feast; and John 
Little was put in the place of honor at Robin’s 
right hand. 

After they had eaten and drunk their fill. Will 
cried : 

“This infant here was called John Little; but 
that name shall be changed anon. The words we’ll 
transpose, and wherever he shall go hereafter, he 
shall be called Little John! ” 

Then they all made the forest ring with a great 
shouting of “Little John! Little John!” and 
Robin presented his new follower with what he 
called his christening robes, a suit of Lincoln green. 
He gave Little John also a long bow and a quiver 
full of arrows. 

“ Thou shalt be as good an archer as the best,” 
Robin said to him; “ and thou shalt range the green- 
wood with the rest of us. We live here like squires 
and lords although we have ne’er a foot of free land. 
We feast on good cheer, however, and have every- 
thing we desire.” 

So the christening feast ended, and the men went 
back to their caves, for it was sunset. Ever after, 
despite the fact that he was seven feet tall and per- 
haps an ell in the waist, the newcomer was called 
Little John. 


50 


HOW ROBIN BECAME A BUTCHER 


Upon a time, it chanced so, 

Bold Robin in forest did spy 
A jolly Butcher, with a bonny fine mare, 
With his flesh to the market did hie. 


V 

HOW ROBIN BECAME A BUTCHER 

Robin and his men came to be a constant thorn 
in the flesh of the Sheriff of Nottingham. That 
worthy man considered himself the representative 
of the majesty of the law and of the Crown; as in- 
deed he was at Nottingham; but it is doubtful 
whether the King’s Majesty took himself quite so 
seriously as did the Sheriff. Time passed, and 
Robin’s band grew in numbers and in strength. It 
seemed as if nothing could stay their progress. 

As for Robin and his merry men, they knew right 
well the feelings of the Sheriff towards them; and, 
of course, they took delight in teasing him. It came 
to be no uncommon thing for one or more of them 
to venture disguised into Nottingham, and play 
some merry trick upon the Sheriff and his followers. 
What made it harder for the Sheriff to enforce the 
law was that practically all the people of the town 
and of the country round loved and protected 
Robin and his men. 

At last, in desperation, the Sheriff set a reward 
on Robin’s head. If the chief offender were caught, 
reasoned he, to capture the rest ought to be an easy 
matter. When the outlaws heard of this proclama- 
53 


ROBIN HOOD 


tion, they raised a great shout of laughter, Robin’s 
voice loudest of all. 

“ So ! ” he said, with twinkling eyes. “ The 
Sheriff will have my head! Well, who knows? Ere 
e’en a twelvemonth be passed, I may have his in- 
stead! ” 

It was a lovely summer morning. Robin stood 
under the spreading branches of his favorite oak 
tree. Some of his men sat or lay on the ground 
near by. Little John sprawled at his full mighty 
length at Robin’s feet. 

“ Say but the word, master,” said Little John in 
a lazy voice, “ say but the word, and we two will 
go and bring back the Sheriff’s head, so ending this 
foolish matter.” 

“ Hark ! What was that? ” said Robin suddenly, 
instead of replying. 

The sound he had heard was the loud, fierce bark- 
ing of a dog. All the men scrambled to their feet; 
but scarcely had the words left Robin’s lips than a 
cut-tailed dog came tearing through the trees, and 
made straight for Robin’s face. 

“ Ha! An ungracious cur! ” said Robin calmly, 
seizing the dog by the throat, and throwing him 
gasping into the bushes near by. “ Is this thy mas- 
ter following? ” 

He gave a quick signal to his men to withdraw. 
When a glossy mare came trotting along the rough 
forest pathway, no one was in sight save Robin him- 
self leaning against the great oak tree. 

54 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


The mare’s rider was evidently a butcher. Nu- 
merous joints of meat were fastened neatly to the 
saddle, and others filled the baskets that were slung 
along the horse’s back. The rider was a fat jolly 
man, with a red face and a shining skin. 

“ Good-morrow, friend! ” quoth Robin, stepping 
suddenly into the man’s way, and seizing the mare’s 
bridle. “ What food hast thou, tell me? Tell me 
also thy trade and where thou livest, for verily I 
like thy company well.” 

The butcher had grown red with rage at this sud- 
den halt in his progress. 

“ No matter where I dwell! ” he said curtly. “ I 
am a butcher, and I am going into Nottingham to 
sell my meats.” 

At that moment, a forlorn yelp arose from the 
bushes. An instant later, the cur who had tried to 
attack Robin came limping from the bushes, evi- 
dently much chastened both in mind and body. 

“ Vice, my poor Vice ! 99 cried the butcher caress- 
ingly. “ Who hath gotten thee into this state? ” 
and he glared suspiciously at Robin. 

“ Thy dog is well named,” observed Robin 
coolly. 

“ Sooth I believe it was thou that didst bring 
him to this pass ! ” said the butcher angrily. “ He 
did no ill to thee.” 

“ If he did not, it was no fault of his,” said Robin. 

“ Now by all the saints in heaven,” cried the 
butcher, lumbering down from his mare, and seiz- 
55 


ROBIN HOOD 


ing his quarterstaff, “ thou shalt have buffets three 
for what thou hast done! ” 

He looked so comical as he stood there, red and 
fuming, that Robin had much ado to restrain his 
laughter. 

“ Thy dog flew straight for my throat, good 
butcher,” he said in a peaceable tone. “ I could not 
but defend myself. Prithee tell me what is the 
price of this good flesh that thou hast here to sell, 
and what is the price of thy mare? Methinks I 
would fain be a butcher — for a while ! ” A sudden 
idea had occurred to him which made his eyes 
twinkle with merriment. 

The butcher’s angry brow smoothed itself out, 
and he let his staff fall to the ground. 

“ The price of my flesh,” he answered, “ with my 
bonny mare — well thou must give me four marks 
for them, and they are not dear at that. As for 
the dog ” 

“ Nay, I want not the dog,” said Robin hastily. 
“ Methinks he doth not crave me as a master either. 
F or thy meats and for thy mare, and for that fresh 
smock that thou wearest, I will give thee five marks. 
Is it agreed? ” 

The butcher agreed, very amicably now. A mo- 
ment later he departed on foot, jingling his money 
in his pocket, and with his dog under his arm ; and 
very shortly afterwards, a comely young butcher, 
wearing a smock several sizes too large for him, was 
trotting gayly on his mare towards Nottingham. 

56 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


It was market day in the town, and tradesmen 
of many kinds were entering Nottingham from all 
directions. There were other butchers, of course, 
besides Robin; and not to show how little he knew 
of how they plied their trade, he mingled among 
them, watching them observantly, and asking occa- 
sional questions. Finally he took up his place with 
a group of others, just before the Sheriff’s house. 
Like those about him, Robin spread forth his meats, 
and began to call out their excellence. So far he 
had played his part well, and no one had suspected 
that he was other than he seemed; but now he did 
something that centred both interest and suspicion 
upon him. 

“ Buy my good fresh meat! ” cried Robin gayly. 
“Here, gentle dames and pretty lasses! Who 
wants three pennyworth of meat for one? ” 

At first, everyone thought he was joking; but 
when the maids and matrons who were marketing 
discovered that he spoke the sober truth, and that 
he was indeed selling his meats for a third of their 
value, naturally everyone flocked to this new and 
handsome young butcher. 

“ Surely,” the other butchers whispered among 
themselves, “ surely this is some prodigal who hath 
sold his father’s lands.” 

Word passed from one to another of the great 
bargains that the new butcher was offering; and 
presently, anxious to share in these, forth from the 
Sheriff’s house came Mrs. Sheriff herself. 

57 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Ah, Mistress Sheriff !” quoth Robin with a 
winning smile. “ Hast come to share in the good 
luck that I have brought to Nottingham this day? 
Nay, here is a fine tender bit of beef that I have 
saved especially for thee. I am a young butcher, 
Mistress Sheriff,” he continued with a diffident air 
that was very becoming to his handsome face; “ I 
am come in among these fine dames thou seest. I 
beseech thee, good Mistress Sheriff, look thou that 
none wrong me! ” and he gazed at her appealingly. 

“ Thou art very welcome to Nottingham! ” said 
the Sheriff’s wife graciously, well pleased with the 
fine piece of beef Robin said he had saved for her. 
When she offered to pay for it, moreover, he refused 
to take a penny, and she retired, in better humor 
than ever ; for although the Sheriff loved good eat- 
ing, he liked not so well to f>ay for it. 

In a few minutes more, Robin’s meats were all 
sold, and he turned gayly to his fellows. 

“ It has been a good market day, friends! ” he 
said. 

Some of them shook their heads doubtfully at 
this mad butcher, more than ever convinced he was 
a prodigal. 

“ Come hither,” said one of them, however, beck- 
oning to him. “ We be all of one trade. Wilt go 
dine with us? ” 

“ Accurst be his heart that doth a butcher deny ! ” 
cried Robin cheerfully. “ I will indeed go with you, 
my brethren true, as fast as I can.” 

58 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


So presently they all sat down together at dinner 
in the Sheriffs house. There under the Sheriff’s 
very nose sat Robin, and chuckled within himself 
to think what a fine tale he would have to tell his 
merry men when he got back to Sherwood. 

“Let our new brother say grace!” said one of 
the butchers ; and Robin very devoutly crossed him- 
self and said: 

“ Pray God bless us all and our meat within this 
place. A good cup of sack will nourish our blood. 
So ends my grace. Amen ! ” 

Then he cried: 

“ Come, fill us more wine, and let us be merry 
while we are here! No matter how dear is our 
reckoning, I swear I will pay it ! ” 

Then were the butchers more than ever convinced 
that he was a prodigal ; but they were nothing loth 
to accept his hospitality. So they ate and drank 
and made merry. 

“ This is a mad blade indeed! ” thought the cau- 
tious butchers, all the while that they were enjoying 
Robin’s generosity. After a time, the Sheriff 
noticed the newcomer, and the butcher sitting near- 
est him told him of what he called Robin’s mad 
antics. 

The Sheriff’s shrewd eyes narrowed. 

“ He is some prodigal, no doubt,” he said. 
“ Mayhap he hath sold his lands, and is now trying 
to spend all the gold and silver he received for 
them.” 


59 


ROBIN HOOD 


He leaned forward, and addressed the strange 
young butcher, seated midway down the table. 

“ Hast perchance any horned beasts to sell me, 
good fellow? ” he asked in a would-be gracious man- 
ner. 

“ Ay, that I have, good Master Sheriff,” replied 
Robin, with great apparent eagerness. “ I have 
two or three hundreds of them.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the Sheriff slowly. He looked at 
Robin searchingly. He did not for one moment 
recognize the outlaw; for he had never before met 
him. He was turning over in his grasping mind 
how he might best fleece this prodigal. 

“ A hundred acres of good free land I have also, 
if it please you to come see it, Master Sheriff,” con- 
tinued Robin. “ I’ll make you as good assurance 
of it as ever my father made me! ” 

“Hm!” said the Sheriff thoughtfully. “Well, 
good fellow, I will see these beasts and that land.” 

“ So please your worship, it will like me well to 
lead you thither,” answered Robin, all the while 
thinking what a tale, what a tale this would be for 
him and his merry men to laugh over ! 

“ Dwell here overnight as my guest,” said the 
Sheriff graciously, his words adding immeasurably 
to Robin’s inward glee. “ To-morrow morn I will 
then go with thee to see thy beasts and thy land.” 

“ I will do so, and I thank your worship heart- 
ily,” replied Robin. 

So it chanced that Robin Hood, on whose head a 
60 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


price had been set, passed that night in the best 
room in the Sheriff’s house. He slept, however, 
very little. He would awaken every once in a while 
to chuckle with delight at the thought of the joke 
he was playing on the Sheriff. 

Early the next morning Robin and the Sheriff 
started off together. When the Sheriff noted that 
they were riding in the direction of Sherwood, he 
turned pale and halted his palfrey. 

“ God bless us this day,” he ejaculated piously, 
“ from a man they call Robin Hood! ” 

“Amen!” said Robin devoutly as they entered 
the forest. 

They rode a little farther, and presently no less 
than a hundred head of good red deer went scam- 
pering past them. 

“ How like you my horned beasts, good Master 
Sheriff? ” asked Robin demurely. “ They be fat 
and fair to see, as I promised you.” 

The Sheriff looked at him with dawning sus- 
picion. 

“ I tell thee, good fellow,” he said uneasily, “ I 
would I were gone. Somehow I like not thy com- 
pany.” 

Then of a sudden Robin set his horn to his lips, 
and blew three blasts. 

In an instant, as it seemed, the trees, the bushes, 
the very undergrowth, were all alive with arch- 
ers. 

“ What is your will, good master? ” cried Little 
61 


ROBIN HOOD 


John, who was nearest, and at the word he and all 
the others bent the knee to Robin. 

“ Faith! ” quoth Robin merrily, glancing at the 
Sheriff who sat shivering and pale on his horse. 
“ I have brought hither the Sheriff of Nottingham 
to dine with us ! ” 

Then all the merry men raised a great shout of 
laughter, and doffed their caps mockingly to the 
Sheriff. 

“He is welcome!” said Little John solemnly. 
“ I hope, however, master, he will honestly pay for 
his dinner. I know he has gold enow.” 

“ Doubtless thou art right, Little John,” an- 
swered Robin. “ Wilt see, my trusty friend? Take 
his mantle, and count into it what he hath in his 
purse.” 

Thereat the Sheriff’s mantle was most courte- 
ously removed, and spread on the ground, and 
Robin’s bidding was done. Alas for the Sheriff! 
his purse was well lined that day; for he had gone 
forth expecting to drive a sharp bargain with the 
foolish prodigal whom he had taken Robin to be. 
After the three hundred pounds in his purse had 
been confiscated, Robin bade his men make dinner 
ready, for since he had dined with the Sheriff, the 
courtesy must be returned. So the Sheriff was well 
feasted in the forest, but he had little appetite for 
the good cheer, thinking of the jest that had been 
played upon him. 

When dinner was over, Robin himself led the 
62 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


Sheriff through the forest, and set him on his pal- 
frey of dapple gray. 

“ Commend me to your good wife, Master Sher- 
iff ! ” cried Robin, laughing as he waved his cap at 
the Sheriff’s retreating back. “ Tell her I will save 
another goodly piece of meat for her when again 
I go as butcher to Nottingham! ” 


63 












» 






VI 


HOW ROBIN MET WILL SCARLET 


As Robin Hood walked the forest way — 
It was in the mid of the day — 

There was he met of a deft young man 
As ever walked by the way. 


VI 


HOW ROBIN MET WILL SCARLET 

“ What time of the day is’t, Little John? ” quoth 
Robin Hood yawning. 

“ Methinks ’tis in the prime,” replied Little John. 

“ Time then His for us to go through the green- 
wood, and hunt for our dinner,” said Robin rising 
and seizing his bow. “ Methinks there are no vict- 
uals in our pantry.” 

The two strode off together. 

Presently, as they walked along through the 
forest, they saw a handsome young man coming 
towards them. His doublet was of silk, his hose of 
scarlet, and he was a goodly youth to behold that 
fine summer’s day. 

At the same moment, Little John and Robin saw 
something else — a herd of deer scampering a short 
distance away. Their hands flew to their bows, and 
each fitted an arrow to the string when they heard 
the stranger say: 

“ Now the best of ye I will have for my dinner, 
and that within a little space, too! ” 

Forthwith he bent his bow, and without more ado, 
he slew the best buck in the herd at a distance of 
forty yards. 

“ Well shot, well shot! ” quoth Robin gayly, go- 
67 


ROBIN HOOD 


ing forward to the stranger. “ That shot was shot 
in good time for thee, but ill for us, since we too 
thought to have that buck for our dinner. Thou art 
worthy, methinks, friend, to be one of my yeomen. 
Wilt accept the place? ” 

He spoke with his hand outstretched; but the 
stranger responded only by a contemptuous look. 

“ Run away, run away, thou foolish fellow! ” he 
said. “ Make haste and go quickly, or with my fist 
I’ll give thee such store of buffets as thou hast never 
felt.” 

Robin felt his anger rising at the stranger’s tone 
and manner. 

“ Thou hadst best not buffet me,” he said quietly. 
“ I may seem forlorn; but if I blow this,” and he 
touched his bugle, “ I can have those who will take 
my part.” 

The stranger gazed at him with a supercilious 
air. 

“ Thou wouldst best not wind thy horn, be thou 
never in such haste to do so,” he said calmly. “ If 
thou dost, I can quickly cut the blast with my good 
broadsword.” 

Then without further words, the two as if with 
one consent bent their bows. Then Robin lowered 
his bow. 

“Oh, hold thy hand, hold thy hand!” quoth 
Robin, his good humor quite restored, for he loved 
a gallant foe. “ To shoot further is vain indeed. 
If we shoot one at the other, one of us will surely 
68 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


be slain. Let us instead take our swords and shields, 
and go under yon tree.” 

“ As I hope to be saved,” said the stranger stub- 
bornly, “ I will not go one foot with thee.” 

His ungracious behavior angered Robin greatly. 
He dealt the stranger a sudden blow which took the 
latter by surprise, and made him reel. When he 
recovered himself, he was crimson with fury. 

“ Thou didst never deal a blow that shall be bet- 
ter paid! ” he cried; and with that he took his staff 
and dealt Robin such a buffet that the blood ran 
trickling from every hair of his head. 

It was Robin’s turn to reel under the blow. 

“ God a mercy, good fellow! ” he cried. “ For 
this that thou hast done, prithee tell me who thou 
art and where thou dost dwell.” 

At that moment Little John, who had been stand- 
ing watchfully by and letting Robin attend to his 
own affairs, thought it was time to interfere. He 
strode forward, and seized the stranger’s staff in his 
iron grip. 

“ Who thou mayst be I know not,” he said; “ but 
sooth thou shalt not murder my master while I 
stand here.” 

The stranger answered Little John only by a 
contemptuous glance; but he spoke to Robin more 
mildly than he had yet done. 

“ Ay, I will tell thee,” he said. “ I was born and 
bred in Maxfield, and my name is Gamewell.” He 
paused a moment, glanced around him cautiously, 
69 


ROBIN HOOD 


and continued in a lower voice. “ By accident I 
killed my father’s steward,” he said, “ and I am 
searching now for one — Robin Hood.” 

“And why for him?” asked Robin, and Little 
John wondered why his eyes were so bright. 

“ Because,” answered the young man, “ he is my 
cousin. ’Tis said he dwells here in the forest. 
Knowest thou where he is? ” 

“ Methinks I can guide thee to him, if the aching 
head thou hast given me will let me. Art thou in- 
deed Robin Hood’s cousin? ” 

“ So I have told thee,” said the stranger, some of 
his impatience of manner showing again. “ Robin 
Hood is really the Earl of Huntingdon had he his 
rights, as no doubt thou knowest,” he said; “and 
I ” — he spoke very simply, so that the words were 
not so haughty as they might otherwise have 
sounded — “ I am the son of the Earl of Maxfield, ” 
he said. 

“Then say no more!” cried Robin joyously, 
flinging his arms around the stranger’s neck. 
“ Thou art indeed Robin Hood’s cousin, and I am 
Robin Hood! Welcome, kinsman, to the green- 
wood.” 

So they embraced each other, and accompanied 
by Little John, went along together through the 
forest. 

“ Kinsman or not,” muttered Little John to him- 
self, “ it irks me sore that he should have so beaten 
our master and yet go unpunished. Perchance I 
70 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


may have a bout with him one day, and try whether 
he can beat me ! ” 

Then Robin blew his horn and summoned his 
merry men, and told them that his kinsman had 
come to join them in the forest. 

“ He shall be bold yeoman of mine,” said Robin; 
“ my chief man next to Little John, and we’ll be 
three of the bravest outlaws in the North Country. 
Now will we eat the fat buck that my cousin all 
unwittingly killed for our dinner as well as his.” 

So they all began to get the dinner ready, and 
after a while sat down to the feast. Then Robin 
said, smiling as he looked at his cousin seated in the 
place of honor on his right: 

“ Thou must be newly christened as is our cus- 
tom here in the greenwood, coz.” He paused, and 
looked the handsome fellow over from head to foot. 
“ Those scarlet hose of thine become thee well,” he 
said. “ Henceforth then thou shalt be no more 
Will Gamewell, but Will Scarlet.” 


71 


V 















A 







VII 

HOW ROBIN WON THE GOLDEN 
ARROW 


Whenas the Sheriff of Nottingham 
Was come , with mickle grief, 

He talked no good of Robin Hood, 
That strong and sturdy thief. 


VII 


HOW ROBIN WON THE GOLDEN ARROW 

“ And so,” said Robin, his eyes twinkling, “ so 
my friend, the Sheriff of Nottingham, is uneasy 
again. Perchance he enjoyed his dinner with us, 
and would like another here in the forest.” 

Robin was seated under his favorite oak tree; his 
bow, arrows and staff lying within reach. Little 
John was perched on a massive stump near by, bus- 
ily engaged in mending an arrow. Will Scarlet lay 
on the ground, his hands clasped beneath his head, 
his eyes fixed dreamily on the sky seen through the 
network of branches overhead. Will Stutely was 
measuring off some yards of green cloth, as he 
kneeled under a tree near by; for it was almost time 
for the men to have new suits. 

“ Mayhap,” said Will Scarlet, in reply to Robin, 
“ mayhap thou art right. What is the latest news 
of our dear Sheriff? ” 

“ Why,” said Robin, “ one of my men brought 
me word that the Sheriff hath announced an arch- 
ery contest in Nottingham. Now it is as plain as 
the great nose on thy face, Little John, that he 
would not proclaim an archery contest did he not 
expect good archers to attend it. We are good 
75 


ROBIN HOOD 


archers. Therefore, the Sheriff doth signify by this 
announcement that he desires our company; not, I 
fear me, however, to do us good or to wish us well.” 

“ Well, why should we not answer the invita- 
tion? ” said Little J ohn, dropping his arrow into his 
quiver, and rising with so mighty a yawn and 
stretch that he looked nearly twice his seven feet 
of height. “ ’Twere shame to disappoint our dear 
Sheriff. Mayhap he desires to return the hospital- 
ity we showed him. Is there a prize? ” 

“ Ay, so I am told,” said Robin; “ a dainty toy 
enough. ’Tis an arrow with a golden head and a 
shaft of silver.” 

“ ’Twould look well in thy quiver, coz, methinks,” 
said Will Scarlet. “ Let us go to Nottingham, say 

I.” 

“ What sayst thou. Will Stutely? ” asked Robin, 
turning to his oldest follower. 

Will Stutely raised his head from his measuring, 
and looked doubtful. 

“ ’Twere pity,” he said slowly, “ to be caught in 
a trap. This match is but an evil wile on 'the Sher- 
iff’s part. Why be so easily deceived? Be ruled 
by me, master. Do not stir from the greenwood.” 

“ Nay,” answered Robin pleasantly, “ much as 
I love thee, Will, methinks thy words smack of the 
craven. We are not deceived. We understand the 
Sheriff perfectly. ’Twill be the greater sport to 
outwit him. Come what will, I’ll try my skill at 
this archery contest.” 


76 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Ay, let us go thither,” said Little John, pick- 
ing up his huge bow and beginning to test it ; “ but 
we need not be recognized for what we are, master. 
Let us leave behind us our mantles of Lincoln 
green, and one shall wear white, another red, an- 
other yellow, another blue. So shall we not be 
known, and our good friend the Sheriff will think 
his trap hath been set in vain.” 

“Bravo, Little John!” cried Robin. “We’ll 
e’en do as thou sayst, and have a hearty bout with 
the Sheriff’s men. Moreover we will not go to- 
gether, but will mix separately among the crowd.” 

The day of the archery contest dawned bright 
and clear. Nottingham was gay with streamers 
and flags, and the streets were filled with people in 
holiday attire. The field for the archery contest 
swarmed with a crowd of eight hundred or more. 
In the place of honor, on a dais at one end of the 
field, sat the Sheriff and his wife. The targets were 
ready, and a great many archers were on hand to 
try their skill. Presently the Sheriff and his wife 
took their places, and the shooting began. 

Robin and his men had done as they had planned. 
Not a man among the archers was in Lincoln green. 
The Sheriff cast a searching glance at the crowd of 
contestants as he took his place, and gave a sigh of 
disappointment. He could see neither Robin nor 
any that looked like a follower of his. 

There were many good archers in the crowd other 
than the outlaws from Sherwood. It was speedily 
77 


ROBIN HOOD 


noted by the eager spectators, however, that there 
were certain men whose arrows always were in or 
near the centre. One of these archers esx>ecially, a 
tall fellow in red, performed several times the most 
difficult feat of all — slitting the willow wand. 
There were two or three others who met with the 
admiration of the onlookers — one in white, another 
in yellow, a third in blue. 

“ Blue Jacket! Blue Jacket! ” cried the people, 
as a tall fellow seven feet in height pierced the very 
centre of the target. “ Nay, nay, bravo, Yellow 
Coat ! ” shouted another group admiringly, as a 
second archer nicked the arrow which Blue Jacket 
had just sent home. 

“ Red hath no peer! ” said one of the archers who 
were taking part. “ The Sheriff will have no diffi- 
culty in awarding the prize. Yon fellow is me- 
thinks the finest archer that England can boast! ” 

“ Soothe/’ murmured another, “ if Robin Hood 
and his men were here, none of them could pass this 
brave shooting.” 

The Sheriff’s heart was as lead with disappoint- 
ment. Successful as was the contest and great as 
were the feats that were performed, his object had 
not been attained. Robin and his men had not ven- 
tured from Sherwood. 

“ Ay, I thought he would be here,” he muttered 
to himself. “ He is said to be brave, but ’tis plain 
he durst not appear.” 

The tall victor in scarlet standing before him to 
78 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


receive the prize, caught the words, and a smile 
touched his lips. 

“ Take, good fellow,” said the Sheriff with a sigh, 
“ this prize for thy noble archery — an arrow with a 
shaft of silver and a head of gold. Thou hast shot 
well this day, and I dare swear no archer in Eng- 
land can pass thee.” 

As they had gone to Nottingham, so the merry 
men came back to Sherwood; not in a company, 
but by twos and threes. Robin was the last to ar- 
rive, bearing stuck through his belt the prize arrow. 
A great shout of welcome greeted him, and he saw 
that a feast had been prepared, and they were only 
waiting his coming to begin. Little J ohn, still in 
blue, was already seated. Will Scarlet, in yellow, 
waved his hand to Robin merrily. 

“ Welcome to the archer whom none other in 
England can surpass ! ” quoth he merrily. “ Our 
friend the Sheriff spoke better than he knew.” 

“ ’Twas a brave day indeed!” said Little John 
placidly. “ Only I would that we might have tried 
our aim on the Sheriff himself. We shall never be 
left in peace until we have rid ourselves of him.” 

“ ’Twas noble shooting, master,” said Will 
Stutely, who had been present although he had 
taken no part in the contest. “ Methinks both thy 
merry men and thou have done right well.” 

“Ay,” said Robin, but he spoke rather listlessly, 
and his face was clouded. When his followers 
shouted lustily, “A health to our master, the winner 
79 


ROBIN HOOD 


of the golden arrow!” his expression did not 
change, although he bowed his thanks. 

“ I am glad, comrades, the bauble hath come to 

Sherwood,” he said slowly. “ Natheless ” He 

sighed. 

“What is it, master?” asked Little John anx- 
iously; for the giant was devoted to Robin. 

Robin answered rather petulantly. After all, he 
was still very young. 

“ Well,” he said, “ all my care is how the Sheriff 
may come to know certainly that it was I who bore 
away his arrow.” 

“ Ha! ha! is that all? ” cried Little John, with a 
great roar of relief. “ Well, then, master, I will 
tell thee what to do, and thou didst find my counsel 
good before. Wilt allow me then to advise thee 
again? ” 

“ Speak on, Little John,” said Robin, smiling 
affectionately at his best-loved follower. “ Thou 
art quick and sound. I know no man among us 
who hath so much wit.” 

“ Well, then,” said Little John gravely, “ my ad- 
vice is that a note be written to the Sheriff, and 
when it is finished that it shall be sent to 
him.” 

“ That is well said,” said Robin; but he looked a 
trifle puzzled. “ When it is writ, however, in what 
manner shall it be sent? ” 

“Pish!” cried Little John airily, waving his 
huge paw. “ Leave that to me. Write thou the 
80 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


message, for thou knowest I have no clerkly skill. 
Then I will deliver it to the Sheriff.” 

“ But how? ” persisted Robin. “ I would not 
have thee risk thy life for this whim of mine.” 

“ Why,” said Little John, gazing at him re- 
proachfully, “ dost forget what archers we have 
proved ourselves to-day? When the letter is writ, 
I will e’en stick it on the point of my arrow, and 
shoot it into the Sheriff’s house; ay, even on to his 
table while he sits at meat. Hurry, master! ’Twill 
be a rare jest! ” 

While the outlaws feasted in the forest, the 
Sheriff sat gloomily at his supper in Nottingham. 
He was very tired; for festive days are fatiguing, 
especially to the chief actors; and besides, he was 
disappointed. The aim of the archery contest had 
been to catch Robin Hood; and it had failed. 

Suddenly as he sat waiting for the pasty to be 
brought in, he heard the quick whiz of an arrow. 
Then he saw one fly through the open casement and 
rest quivering on the table before him. 

The point of the arrow had been thrust through 
a tiny note. He reached forward and took it, trem- 
bling as he did so. 

When he read the note, however, he grew fairly 
purple with rage; yet it was very brief: 

Robin Hood thanks the Sheriff of Nottingham 
for the prize of the Golden Arrow. 


81 



VIII 


HOW ROBIN MET THE CURTAL FRIAR 


And coming unto Fountains Dale, 

No further would he ride; 

There was he aware of a Curtal Friar , 
Walking by the waterside. 


VIII 


HOW ROBIN MET THE CURTAL FRIAR 

It was summer time. The leaves were green and 
the flowers fresh and gay. The spirit of the season 
had entered into Robin and his men, and they were 
making merry together. Some were having a leap- 
ing match. Others were testing their endurance in 
running. The greatest number, however, were en- 
gaged in their favorite sport, and were having an 
impromptu contest at archery. 

“ Come, come!” bellowed Little John, who was 
acting as Master of Ceremonies. “ Now which of 
you is a good archer and can draw a good bow? 
Which of you can kill a deer? Who can kill a hart 
five hundred feet away? Come now, come now, ye 
merry men, and show your skill ! ” 

So challenged, there followed such an exhibition 
as might well have made the Sheriff tremble, had he 
been there to see. Will Scarlet killed a buck, Will 
Stutely a doe, and Little John himself accepted the 
last part of his own challenge, and killed a hart five 
hundred feet away. 

“ God’s blessing on thy heart! ” cried Robin, his 
admiration, always free and generous, aroused es- 
85 


ROBIN HOOD 


pecially by Little John’s noble shot. “ God’s bless- 
ing on thy heart, I say, that hath shot such a shot for 
me ! I would ride my horse a hundred miles to find 
thy match! ” 

Then Will Scarlet began to laugh heartily. 

“ There lies a Curtal Friar in Fountains Abbey, 
master,” he said, “ who will beat both him and thee. 
He can well draw a strong bow, and methinks if all 
of us were lined up together, he could with ease 
outdo every one of us.” 

Robin stared at him in wonder. 

“ I have just been thinking,” he said, “ that there 
were not such archers in all England, and good 
sooth, my heart was like to burst with joy and pride, 
but if what thou sayst be sooth, by Our Lady, Will, 
I will neither eat nor drink until I have seen this 
friar.” 

Without more ado, he put on his armor and his 
steel helmet, took his sword and shield and his bow 
with a quiverful of arrows, and so set out for Foun- 
tains Abbey. 

When he reached the place, he saw a stout friar 
walking beside the water. He was strangely at- 
tired for a friar. As he walked to and fro, his 
gown swung back with the motion, and Robin saw 
that he was clad in complete armor. Like Robin, 
he wore a steel helmet and a sword and buckler 
hung by his side. 

Robin approached nearer to him. 

“ Carry me over the water, thou Curtal Friar! ” 
86 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


he said with seeming fierceness. “ If thou dost not, 
thy life shall pay for thy refusal! ” 

The big fellow glanced him over coolly. 

“ Well,” said the friar, heaving a gusty sigh, 
“ the blessed St. Christopher refused not to ford the 
stream in kindness ; and it would ill beseem a hum- 
ble friar to do so.” And without more words, he 
knelt, and offered his broad shoulders for Robin to 
bestride. Robin did so, chuckling inwardly, and 
the friar, gathering his frock about him, plunged 
into the stream. He trod through the deep waters 
right manfully, with a firm, even step, and not a 
word did he speak until Robin was safely on the 
other side, and had leaped lightly down from his 
shoulders. 

“Tarry, friend!” said the friar, holding out a 
huge arresting hand. “ ’Tis thy turn now ! Carry 
me back again over this stream to the spot where 
thou didst first find me, my fine fellow, and if thou 
dost refuse, I do assure thee it shall breed thee 
pain!” 

Robin looked uncertain whether to laugh or to be 
angry at this turning of the tables. 

“ Nay ” he began. Then his sense of fair 

play prevailed. “Thou’rt right,” he said. “Mount 
thy steed, good fellow!” and in his turn, he knelt 
and let the friar mount on his shoulders. 

Robin’s task was a harder one, however, than the 
friar’s had been. The latter was a much heavier 
burden, and besides Robin did not know the stream. 

87 


ROBIN HOOD 


When at length he landed the friar on the bank 
whence they had started, he heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Thy turn again! ” he panted with twinkling 
eyes, not really expecting that the friar would take 
him at his word. 

The friar, however, again stooped obediently to 
act as Robin’s steed, and once more waded out into 
the water. This time he paused in the midst of the 
stream. 

“ Now sink or swim! ” he cried, and with a sud- 
den deft movement of his shoulders he heaved 
Robin into the water, and stood laughing with arms 
akimbo. 

Robin was a good swimmer, and he reached the 
bank with little difficulty. The friar followed him, 
rumbling out a jolly laugh. Then he and Robin, 
their garments alike dripping, stood eyeing each 
other. Finally Robin lifted his bow, and let fly an 
arrow at the friar. The other stooped for his steel 
buckler, and from it the arrow glanced off harm- 
lessly. 

“ Shoot on, shoot on, thou fine fellow! ” he cried 
tauntingly. “ Shoot on as thou hast begun ! I 
will not shun thee if thou shoot here all day long! ” 

Robin realized that the friar spoke the truth. 
His coat of mail rendered him safe from any arrow. 
Nevertheless the outlaw was irritated by the way 
the friar had outwitted him and by his insolent man- 
ner. He lost his head, and foolishly continued to 
shoot. The friar caught all his arrows on his shield. 

88 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


AVhen his arrows were all gone, Robin with a 
furious cry called to the friar to use his sword as 
well as his shield. With the words he drew his 
own. Then the two began to fight with might and 
main. 

From ten o’clock in the morning until four in the 
afternoon, it is said that Robin and the friar fought 
with swords, and at the end of that time it remained 
a drawn battle. At last Robin, much spent, fell to 
his knees. 

“A boon!” he panted. “A boon, thou Curtal 
Friar ! Give me leave to set my horn to my mouth, 
and blow three blasts! ” 

“ That will I do! ” said the friar contemptuously. 
“ I hope thou wilt blow so well that both thine eyes 
shall fall out! ” 

With this encouraging wish, Robin set his horn 
to his lips and blew his usual signal to his men. As 
always it was speedily answered. In an instant, as 
it seemed, half a hundred men, with bows held 
ready, came speeding towards Robin and the friar. 

The friar turned rather pale. 

“ What men are these who come so hastily? ” he 
said. 

“ They are mine, Friar,” said Robin. “ What is 
that to thee? ” 

“A boon I crave in my turn!” said the friar 
quickly. “ I gave thee the like. Give me now 
leave to set my fist to my mouth and whistle three 
times.” 


89 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ That boon will I grant thee,” said Robin; “ or 
else I were to blame.” 

Then the friar set his fist to his mouth, and whis- 
tled three times; and in answer to the summons 
came running towards him half a hundred fierce 
dogs. 

“ Here’s for every man of thine a dog of mine! ” 
cried the friar. “And as for thee I will myself be 
the hound that lays thee low ! ” 

“ Nay, by my faith, Friar,” said Robin, “ that 
may not be ! ” 

As if to make his words vain, however, two of the 
fierce curs made for him at once, one behind, one 
before, and in a moment, his mantle of Lincoln 
green was torn from his back. 

At this the good outlaws began shooting bravely, 
but whether they shot east, west, north or south, it 
did little good. The horrid curs were so well trained 
that as the arrows were aimed, the dogs caught 
them in their mouths, and carried them to the friar. 

“Take up thy dogs!” cried Little John at 
length. He was shooting desperately even while 
he spoke. “ Friar, heed my bidding, and take up 
thy dogs ! ” 

“ What man art thou,” retorted the friar impu- 
dently, “ who hast come hither to prate with me? ” 

“ My name is Little John,” replied the other, and 
his voice was stern. “ I speak no lie. If thou take 
not up thy dogs now, I will take up both them and 
thee.” 


90 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


Little John was as good as his word. He kej)t 
on shooting with might and main, and presently ten 
of the fierce curs lay dead. 

“Hold thy hand, good fellow !” said the friar 
then, with respect in his voice for the first time. 
“ Thy master and I will agree. What wouldst 
thou? ” he went on, looking at Robin. 

Now gallant men like gallant foes, and Robin 
had become much interested in the fighting friar 
and his trained dogs. 

“ If thou wilt forsake Fountains Abbey,” he said, 
“ and join my men, and say Mass for us, and be our 
Chaplain, thou shalt have a noble every Sunday 
through the year, and new garments for every holy 
day. Methinks a doughty friar like thee would be 
well suited to our band. What sayst thou? ” 

“Ay, by my troth!” cried the friar, seizing 
Robin’s hand in a mighty grip. “ I will go with 
thee. Thy fellows and thou like me well. I will 
take along my dogs, and thou shalt see, they will be 
gentle as lambs towards ye all.” 

So the friar and his dogs accompanied Robin and 
his men back to Sherwood. 

“ I know not thy name,” said Robin to the friar 
as they passed along, “ and thou needest not to tell 
me, for we usually give new names to those who 
join us. Now because thou didst tuck up thy frock 
around thee when thou didst bear me through the 
stream, and afterwards when thou didst fight with 
me, thou shalt be known among us as Friar Tuck.” 

91 


ROBIN HOOD 


And so he was; and by that name he has come 
down to us in all the songs and stories about Robin 
and his men. 


92 


IX 

IIOW LITTLE JOHN TORMENTED THE 
SHERIFF 


Lythe and listen , gentlemen, 

All that now be here, 

Of Little John that was the knight* s 
Good mirth ye shall hear . 


IX 


HOW LITTLE JOHN TORMENTED THE SHERIFF 

“ Master/"' said Little J ohn, one bright summer 
morning not long after Friar Tuck had joined the 
band of merry men in Sherwood, “ master, me- 
thinks I should like to go shooting to-day. I hear 
that there is again to be a match in Nottingham/’ 

Robin looked at him sharply. 

“As thou wilt, Little John/’ he said after that 
instant’s pause of scrutiny. “ Look well to thyself, 
however, for it would grieve me sore to lose thee out 
of my band.” 

“ I thank thee, master,” answered Little John 
calmly. “ I will heed thy words. Be not alarmed, 
natheless, if I do not come back to-night. I have a 
little trick in mind that I would play on our sweet 
Sheriff, and it may take me several days to do so. 
Give me a fortnight ere thou send any in search 
of me.” 

“A fortnight!” echoed Robin, somewhat dis- 
mayed. “ Why, the Sheriff might have thee 
hanged by that time.” 

“ Fear not! ” said Little John cheerfully. “ The 
hemp hath not been woven with which the Sheriff 
shall hang me! ” 

“ Well, go thy ways! ” cried Robin, clapping him 
95 


ROBIN HOOD 


on the shoulder. “ God send thee safe back to us, 
say I!” 

“And I! ” added Friar Tuck, the piety of his as- 
pect somewhat marred by the fact that he was at 
the moment devouring a great chunk of venison, as 
he sat cross-legged on the turf. 

Little John nodded gravely to them both in ac- 
knowledgment of their good wishes, and without 
more ado he strode off through the forest in the di- 
rection of Nottingham. 

Again the town was in holiday attire, although 
the occasion was not so elaborate a merrymaking as 
the day when Robin had won the golden arrow. 
The same broad level meadow was the scene of the 
shooting-match, but there were not nearly so many 
present either among archers or audience, as on the 
other occasion. Little John’s great height always 
made him conspicuous; so he had dressed as unob- 
trusively as possible in sober brown, and he went 
stoopingly in order to make himself look shorter. 
He joined the little band of contestants, and began 
to shoot. It was not long before his extraordina- 
rily good marksmanship made him conspicu- 
ous. 

“ Prithee, what is the prize, friend, in this con- 
test? ” he asked courteously of the man next him in 
the line of those ranged to shoot. 

“ ’Tis said the Sheriff wishes a good marksman as 
a retainer in his household,” replied the other, and 
wondered why this tall, slouching fellow grinned so 
96 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


unaccountably in answer. “ Ever since he had that 
trick played upon him by Robin Hood when the 
outlaw won the golden arrow, His Worship hath 
desired additional protection, ’tis said.” 

“Ah, is’t so? ” purred Little John softly. 
“ ’Twill be a noble prize and one worth striving for; 
since no doubt he that serves the Sheriff will lie 
softly, eat good food, and quaff humming liquor. 
Is’t not so? ” 

The other man had no time to reply, for he was 
called for his turn at the target. The archers were 
now slitting the willow wand, which was considered 
one of the most difficult feats of archery. It was, 
however, mere child’s play to any of Robin Hood’s 
men, since it was a shot they were constantly prac- 
tising. Three times the archers were called on to 
slit the wand, and each time Little John did so, not 
only with ease, but even with apparent carelessness. 
The Sheriff, seated on the dais overlooking the field, 
noted approvingly the fine shooting of the stoop- 
shouldered fellow in brown. 

“ Him will I select as my servant,” he thought to 
himself. “ Robin Hood shoots not better. With 
this fellow as protector in my household I shall feel 
safe.” 

When for the third time Little John’s arrow slit 
the willow wand exactly in twain, the Sheriff rose 
in his place. 

“ By Him that died on tree,” quoth the Sheriff, 
“ this is the best archer I ever saw — save one,” he 
97 


ROBIN HOOD 


added under his breath, thinking of Robin Hood. 
“ Come hither, fellow.” 

The large stoop-shouldered fellow slouched over 
to the dais, and pulled his forelock with loutish re- 
spect. 

“ Say now, thou sturdy fellow,” said the Sheriff 
pompously, “ what is thy name, and in what county 
wert thou born? Also where dost thou dwell 
now? ” 

“ I was born in Holderness, sir,” answered the 
hulking archer meekly. “ Men call me Reynold 
Greenleaf.” 

“ Well then, Reynold Greenleaf,” said the Sher- 
iff with condescension, “ wilt come and dwell in my 
household? I will give thee twenty marks a 
year.” 

“ So please you,” quoth the man in brown, “ I 
already have a master, a courteous knight. It 
might be better if thou wouldst get leave of him to 
let me be thy man.” 

“ Well, let that be,” said the Sheriff. “ Stay 
thou with me for a month or so until we can get 
leave from thy master.” 

“ As thou wilt, Master Sheriff,” said the big 
archer meekly. 

So Little John became the Sheriff’s man, which 
was exactly the trick he had in mind when he left 
Sherwood, and his eyes twinkled as he followed his 
new master into the house. 

“ Now, so God help me,” he said to himself, 
98 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ and by my true faith to my master, I shall 
be the worst servant to the Sheriff that he ever 
had!” 

So Little J ohn lay under a roof that night, and 
for seven nights thereafter, and he thought his 
mossy bed in the greenwood ill exchanged for those 
stifling walls. One day the Sheriff arose early 
and went hunting, and Little John remained 
in bed until noon. Then, feeling hungry, he 
went down to the steward and asked for his 
dinner. 

“ Nay,” said the steward crossly in reply, “ thou 
great hulking lazybones, why dost thou not rise 
with the rest of the household? Thou shalt neither 
eat nor drink until the Sheriff gets back from his 
hunting.” 

“ Nay, then,” quoth Little John cheerfully, 
“ rather than wait so long, I make my vow to God 
I will crack thy crown.” 

The butler gave an alarmed look at the huge fel- 
low towering above him, and then beat a hasty re- 
treat to the buttery, where he shut and bolted the 
door. Little John shattered the door with a single 
powerful kick, and then gave a playful box on the 
ear to the butler cowering within. Next he began 
to select deliberately of the best he could find to eat 
and drink. 

While he sat eating and drinking comfortably, 
the butler slipped away and told the cook what had 
happened. The latter, Nick Much by name, a tall, 
99 


ROBIN HOOD 


powerful fellow almost as huge as Little John, 
came to the buttery door, and beheld Little John 
eating his breakfast-dinner. 

“ I make my vow to God,” said Much, surveying 
the giant, “ I make my vow to God thou art a 
shrewd hind to dwell in any house and thus get 
thine own dinner.” 

With that he lunged forward, and fetched Little 
John a sharp buffet on the head. 

“ By my troth,” said Little John, blinking a little 
as he went on with the meal which Much’s blow had 
interrupted, ^that stroke of thine likes me well. 
Thou art a bold man and a hardy, methinks ; and 
now that I have finished my dinner, I shall better 
assay thee.” 

With that he rose to his huge height, and drew his 
sword. Much, the cook, nothing loth, did likewise, 
and they began to fight together there in the but- 
tery. 

At the end of an hour’s good fighting, Little 
John lowered his point. 

“ By my loyalty to my master,” he said to Much, 
“ thou art one of the best swordsmen I ever saw.” 
He came closer to the cook and spoke very low: 
“ Couldst thou shoot as well with the bow,” he said, 
“ thou shouldst to the greenwood with me. Two 
times in the year thou shouldst have a change of 
clothing, and every year thou shouldst have twenty 
marks from — Robin Hood! ” 

Much started at the name. 

100 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Put up thy sword/’ he answered. “We will be 
fellows truly.” 

He nodded knowingly at Little John, and ran off 
to the kitchen. In a few moments he returned, 
bearing a dainty dish of stewed venison accom- 
panied by bread and wine, and the two sat down to- 
gether, and ate ravenously, for their combat had 
given them huge appetites. With their heads to- 
gether they began to plan how they might join 
Robin Hood that very night. 

“ I will take with me,” quoth Much, “ a gift for 
my new master.” 

So they went to the Sheriff’s treasury, and Much 
helped himself to a good part of the Sheriff’s silver. 

“ God save thee, my dear master! ” cried Little 
John gavly, as he and Much the cook burst in upon 
the merry men lying under the trees in the moon- 
light. 

“ Why welcome, Little John! ” quoth Robin, his 
face brightening with relief at sight of his best loved 
man. “ Welcome also to this good yeoman who is 
with thee! ” 

“Welcome, Little John!” shouted the merry 
men, in a huge chorus. 

“ Now tell me, what tidings from Nottingham? ” 
asked Robin when Little John and the newcomer 
had settled down comfortably among the rest of the 
outlaws. 

“ The Sheriff greets thee,” said Little J ohn 

101 


ROBIN HOOD 


gravely, “ and sends thee here his cook for thy serv- 
ice, and likewise some of his silver vessels and three 
hundred pounds ! ” 

Then a great shout of laughter arose from the 
merry men, for well they knew that the Sheriff 
would never willingly do any such thing. 

“ I make my vow to God and to the Holy Trin- 
ity/’ quoth Robin, “ that it was never by the Sher- 
iff’s free will that this good is come to me.” 

“ Wait, master,” said Little John mysteriously, 
“wait! There is more to come! For the nonce, 
welcome this new man to the forest. His name is 
Much, and he is the son of a miller, and good sooth, 
but he is the dainty cook! ” 

Little John spent that night in the greenwood 
with his comrades. The next morning he went off 
alone at sunrise, and ran fleetly in the direction that 
he knew the Sheriff had taken. When he had gone 
about five miles, he met the Sheriff and his party. 
Little John knelt before the Sheriff. 

“God save thee, my dear master!” he said 
sweetly. 

“Reynold Greenleaf!” cried the Sheriff. 
“ Where hast thou been? ” 

“ I have been wandering through this forest, 
master,” replied Little John, “ and therein have I 
seen the fairest sight that ever I saw — a green 
hart!” 

“A green hart!” echoed the Sheriff, his eyes 
nearly starting from his head with amazement. 

102 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Yes, master,” answered Little John, “ a green 
hart; and what is more, some seven score of green 
deer with him.” 

“ That sight I would fain see!” quoth the Sheriff, 
who had his fair share of curiosity. 

“ Come then, dear master,” said Little John, 
“ come with me, and, thou shalt see them also.” 

The Sheriff, burning to see this wonder, turned 
his horse, and rode in the direction that Little 
John led. The latter ran fleetly along, smiling 
to himself the while, and when they had gone 
about five miles, they saw a handsome man 
in Lincoln green standing under a great oak 
tree. 

“ Robin Hood! ” gasped the Sheriff, and wheeled 
his horse sharply about; but Little John seized the 
bridle. 

“ Lo you!” he cried laughing. “Here is the 
green hart, the master hart!” Then he called to 
Robin, “ I have brought a guest to dinner, to try the 
skill of our new cook! ” 

“Welcome, Master Sheriff!” exclaimed Robin. 
“ Welcome for the second time to the forest! ” 

The Sheriff was pale and quaking with fear, for 
well he knew that he was helpless. He was treated, 
however, with the utmost courtesy. He was as- 
sisted from his horse, and seated beside Robin under 
the great oak tree. When at length dinner was 
served you may imagine the Sheriff’s feelings when 
he saw his own cook, Much, bearing the dishes to 
103 


ROBIN HOOD 


the table, and when he found himself eating from 
his own silver! 

All the afternoon, a long one to the Sheriff, 
Robin entertained him with songs and with stories, 
and with archery contests. When night fell, the 
Sheriff hoped that Robin would let him go; but 
not so. 

“ Thou shalt lie under this oak tree to-night, 
Sheriff,” said Robin gayly. “ Mayst find thy 
mossy bed a pleasant one! This is our Order of 
the Greenwood. ,, 

“ Methinks, ,, sighed the Sheriff, “ ’tis a harder 
Order than that of any anchorite or friar in Merry 
England! ” 

“ Nay,” said Robin, his eyes twinkling, “ per- 
chance I’ll keep thee here a twelvemonth and make 
an outlaw of thee.” 

“ Nay, Robin, nay! ” pleaded the Sheriff in ter- 
ror. “ I pray thee rather than keep me here an- 
other night that thou smite off my head to-morrow. 
Let me go and I will be friends with thee! ” 

“ Then if I let thee go to-morrow,” said Robin, 
“ thou must swear an oath on my bright sword that 
thou shalt never do me harm by water or by land; 
and if thou findest any of my men that thou wilt 
help them.” 

“Anything, anything, so thou wilt let me go!” 
muttered the Sheriff. 

“ Swear then!” said Robin sternly, holding to- 
wards the Sheriff the cross hilt of his sword; and his 
104 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


teeth chattering, the Sheriff swore as Robin had 
hidden him. 

So the next morning Robin let him go back to 
Nottingham: but he put no great faith in the Sher- 
iff’s oath, and it was well that he did not, as you 
shall hear later. 


105 



HOW MAID MARIAN CAME TO SHER- 
WOOD 


A bonny fine maid of a noble degree, 
Maid Marian called by name, 

Did live in the north , of excellent worth, 
For she was a gallant dame . 


X 


HOW MAID MARIAN CAME TO SHERWOOD 

It was spring in Sherwood. The love-calls of 
the mating birds echoed from tree to tree. Flowers 
were budding, and their fragrance filled the air.‘ It 
was not often that the merry men of Sherwood 
thought of anything but the keen delights of the 
chase, the goodly joys of archery, the manly cheer 
of the quarterstaff play; but it was spring, and 
with one accord their minds turned towards other 
things and other days. Instead of stringing bows 
and testing arrows, they were prone to lie dreaming 
by the brook, or to carve initials on the bark of the 
great trees. Some dear lass was in the thought of 
every man ; a wife, a daughter, a sweetheart. Even 
Friar Tuck was heard trolling lustily the ballad of 
The Nut Brown Maid: 

“For in my mind of all mankind 
1 love but you alone !” 

he roared cheerfully in a tone much more befitting 
a drinking catch than a love song. 

“ Thou art a scandal to thy cloth ! ” said Robin 
sternly, although with twinkling eyes. “ For pun- 
109 


ROBIN HOOD 


ishment that thou puttest such thoughts into our 
heads, I sentence thee to a bout at quarterstaff with 
Little John.” 

“ Put such thoughts into your heads ! ” repeated 
the friar. He looked at Robin shrewdly. “Faith!” 
he said, “ I but echo the words in all your hearts, 
thine included, Robin. What were the initials I 
saw thee hacking out on the bark of that willow by 
the brook yesterday? Not thine own, by Our 
Lady! Who is she, Robin? Thou wouldst make 
a bonny bridegroom for some fair bride. Here,” 
and he slapped his broad chest, “ here is the priest ! 
Find a bride, prithee, and let us have a wedding in 
Sherwood.” 

“A pox on thy prying eyes and thy foolish 
tongue! ” cried Robin in a sudden fury; and with- 
out more ado, he turned on his heel and left the 
friar. The latter stood with arms akimbo gazing 
after him as he strolled along the brookside, a 
goodly figure in his suit of Lincoln green. When 
Robin was at last out of sight, the friar shook his 
head, and felt for his rosary. 

“ O Blessed Lady, send him a maid worthy of 
him ! ” he prayed, and then went off in search of 
Little John. 

Meanwhile, Robin had thrown himself down on a 
mossy bed under a tree by the brook, and lay with 
arms clasped under his head, gazing out at the rip- 
pling water. 

“Seven years!” he muttered to himself. “I 

110 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


have been in the forest seven years. I wonder 
whether she ever heard of my outlawry, or if she re- 
members me. We were but boy and girl, yet never 
since have I seen maid that touches her. Ah, Mar- 
ian, Marian! ” 

Then he started at the sighing of his own voice. 

“What!” he cried, starting up impatiently. 
“Am I then turned into a lovesick weakling? I 
will not have it so. I will summon my men, and 

have an archery contest, or ” His bugle, half 

way to his lips, fell unwound. “ How rarely would 
I like to see her again !” he murmured. “ Tush! 
What a fool I am! By this time she is at court, 
and perchance hath wedded some fine gallant there. 
I’ll think no more of her, but take some disguise, 
and go in search of adventure.” 

So saying, he sought the cave where he and his 
meny men kept costumes of various kinds used 
chiefly when they wished to go forth unknown. He 
chose now a cloak and hood of sober brown, but he 
wore his sword and carried his bow and quiver. He 
pulled the hood well over his brows and about his 
face, so that even one of his own men would have 
scarcely recognized him. 

Thus disguised, he strode briskly through the 
forest, glancing keenly from side to side as he went, 
to see whether there were any traces of game. 
Presently he saw indications that a hart had passed 
that way, and he crept cautiously along, one hand 
grasping his bow, the other just ready to draw an 
111 


ROBIN HOOD 


arrow from his quiver. He saw the game at last, a 
noble animal grazing in an open space. Quick as a 
flash, Robin raised his bow, the arrow poised for 
flight. With his usual seemingly careless aim, he 
shot. At the same instant he was astonished to 
hear the twang of a second bowstring, the whiz of 
another arrow. As the hart fell dead, it was impos- 
sible to tell for a moment which arrow had caused 
the killing. Robin ran forward, and saw another 
lad bounding from the trees directly opposite. 

“My game!” cried the boy in a high sweet 
voice. 

“Nay, that thou must prove !” replied Robin, 
rather sharply, for he prided himself, and with good 
reason, upon his shooting, and it displeased him 
that this stripling should have had a better aim than 
he. He bent over the dying hart, and to his cha- 
grin, he found that it was indeed the stranger’s 
arrow that was causing the animal’s death. 

“ Thou art right; ’tis thy game,” he began cour- 
teously if coldly, and then for the first time he 
looked the lad full in the eyes. There was some- 
thing strangely familiar about the clear direct 
gaze. 

“Pshaw! I am doting!” Robin muttered to 
himself, passing a hand across his forehead. “ The 
spring air hath gotten into my blood indeed, when 
I see her eyes in this lad’s face! ” 

“ Thou dost well to rub thy head, stranger! ” 
cried the boy impudently. “ The sun must have 
112 


I 


I 



"My game!" 


cried the boy. 






























































































































■ 4 . < 





. 






















































































































AND HIS MERRY MEN 


dazzled thine eyes sadly since thou couldst not see 
at once that it was my arrow that reached its aim 
and not thine. Natheless thine was a fair shot, a 
very fair shot indeed! ” 

Robin flushed, and looked at the boy as if uncer- 
tain whether to laugh or to be angry. 

“ Thou malapert!” he said, but with good nature. 
“ The hart is thine indeed; but remember that ’tis 
often an ill-aimed arrow finds its mark by chance 
or fate. Draw thy sword and let me see whether 
thou canst use that as well as thy bow.” 

“ Have at thee! ” cried the lad cheerfully, and 
drew his sword. 

Robin was a master bowman, and a good swords- 
man, but his skill was not so great with the sword as 
with the bow. Much to his surprise, he soon found 
himself greatly put to it to defend himself against 
the lightning strokes of this slender stripling. 

The first wound was Robin’s, and the blood ran 
freely from his cheek at the lad’s clever thrust. 
Angrily, he made a play in his turn which gave his 
opponent a slight flesh wound in the arm. Much to 
his surprise, he saw that the stripling had turned 
very pale. 

“ Nay,” the boy stammered, his sword dropping, 

“ I — I ” He clapped his hand against the 

wound, and Robin thought for a moment that the 
lad would faint. 

“Here’s a coil!” observed Robin, clapping his 
hand against his own bleeding face, and looking at 
113 


ROBIN HOOD 


the stripling in quizzical inquiry. “ Thou tightest 
like a young tiger, yet at the sight of blood, like any 

girl ” and with that he sprang forward, and 

caught the lad as he fell swooning. 

With a muttered exclamation of surprise and 
concern, Robin ran to a little spring that bubbled 
near, and filled his hood with water. He dashed it 
sharply into the lad’s face, and knelt beside him. 
Presently the boy’s color came back, he stirred, and 
sat waveringly upright. 

“ Methinks,” quoth Robin, supporting the strip- 
ling’s shoulders as he knelt beside him, “ methinks 
thou art worthy to be one of my men. Wouldst 
like to range the woods with me, and hear the lark 
and the nightingale? ” 

The boy turned and rested his cheek on Robin’s 
shoulder. 

“Ay, that is why I came,” he murmured; “ but I 
see thou knowest me not ! Robin ! ” 

Robin stared at him, some strange familiarity in 
the voice tugging at his heartstrings. 

“ Robin,” the lad whispered again, “ look well at 
me! ” 

He turned his face upward. Robin gazed search- 
ingly into the wide gray eyes, then at the flushed 
cheeks, the clustering chestnut curls. 

“ Marian! ” he gasped at last, still only half be- 
lieving that it could be true. “ Marian, is it really 
thou? ” 

She hid her face sharply on his shoulder again. 

114 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“Well done, sir, after seven years !” she whis- 
pered. Then she raised her head and looked 
at him in the clear-eyed, gallant fashion he so 
well remembered in the little girl who had been 
his comrade. “ I was a child, and so wast 
thou,” she said simply. “ Perchance thou hast not 
remembered — as I have. I grew so weary of the 
court, and I longed to see thee again. If thou dost 
not — want me, I can go back.” 

“ Want thee! ” . he repeated. “ Want thee! 
Have I not already asked thee to join my band? ” 
Then he laughed joyously, and caught her in his 
arms. “Friar Tuck was right, sweetheart,” he 
said. “We shall shortly have a wedding in Sher- 
wood.” Then he hesitated, and a cloud crossed his 
brow. “ I am an outlaw,” he said, looking at her 
anxiously. “ I have no roof to offer thee but the 
sky, no bed save the soft moss of the greenwood. 
Marian, is it enough? ” 

For answer, she held up her lips for their be- 
trothal kiss. 

“ Come then,” said Robin rising. “ I went in 
search of adventure this morn, and soothlv I have 
found it. It hath been a forest wooing, indeed, and 
now a greenwood wedding shall follow hard upon. 
I know the very place where I shall make a bower 
for thee. Come, sweetheart; the priest is not far 
away.” 

They went together through the forest, and now 
the love notes of the birds and the sweet smell of 

115 


ROBIN HOOD 


the flowers were no longer a torment to Robin but a 
joy. So at last they reached the great oak tree 
where Robin had been born. 

Friar Tuck was standing there, and Robin 
greeted him merrily. 

“ I thought thy words good this morning, Friar,” 
quoth he, “ and so I have found the maid. A slain 
hart awaits yonder in the forest for our wedding 
feast. Call hither my men and prithee marry us at 
once.” 

The friar stared open-mouthed. 

“A maid! ” he repeated unbelievably, staring at 
the handsome stripling who apparently accom- 
panied Robin. “A maid, quotha! What jest is 
this? ” 

“ No jest, Friar,” replied Robin gayly. “ This 
is my dear Maid Marian, and now will I summon 
my merry men, and bid them to be loyal to her as to 
me. Then shall she don her right attire from our 
store in the cave yonder, and thou shalt marry us.” 
And with that he set his horn to his lips, and blew 
the triple blast which always summoned his men. 

They came running from glade and tree and hill 
as if by magic. There were seven score of them 
now, and they were a goodly company. Robin pre- 
sented them to Maid Marian, and they raised a 
great shout of admiration and greeting. Marian 
slipped away to find what woman’s garments she 
could among the outlaws’ store, and then at last 
before the rustic altar which Friar Tuck had built 
116 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


soon after he had joined the band, Robin and Mar- 
ian were wedded. 

Merry was the marriage feast that followed, the 
chief dish being the hart that the bride had slain. 
So Robin wooed and wedded in the forest. 


117 



XI 

HOW ROBIN MET SIR RICHARD OF 
THE LEA 


As they looked into Bernysdale, 
By a hidden street, 

There came a knight a-riding, he; 
Full soon they gan him mete . 


XI 


HOW ROBIN MET SIR RICHARD OF THE LEA 

Maid Marian's coming to the forest gave the 
one thing to the joyous life there that it had lacked 
before — a woman’s presence. It was not long be- 
fore the outlaws adored her, not only for Robin’s 
sake, but for her own. Surely was never such a 
honeymoon as theirs in Sherwood with all its 
beauty of pearly dawns and golden sunsets and 
magic moonlight, with the birds to sing madrigals 
from every bush and tree, and the wild flowers 
breathing mutely the sweet mystery in their hearts. 

A special bower was made for Marian, a cave 
overhung with woodbine and roses, and there she 
passed long joyous days when she was not in her 
boy’s attire hunting with the merry men. She 
seemed perfectly happy, and not for one moment 
did she regret the impulse and its fulfilment which 
had brought her to Sherwood and to be Robin’s 
bride. 

They were all seated one day under or near the 
oak tree resting after a chase, when Robin said : 

“ Truly I have no desire to dine to-day until I 
have some bold baron or some uncouth guest who 
may pay for the best. Some knight or some 
squire ” 


121 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Well, master/’ said Little John, “ tell us where 
we shall go and what life we shall lead, where we 
shall rob, where we shall beat and bind ” 

Marian uttered a little cry of protest and looked 
at the giant reproachfully as he rolled off these 
alarming propositions cheerfully in his great rum- 
bling voice. 

“ Surely, dear ” she whispered to Robin, and 

laid her hand appealingly on his arm. Robin 
laughed and kissed her cheek. 

“No force!” he said sternly to Little John. 
“We shall do well enough. Harm no good hus- 
bandman at his plough or any yeoman or squire or 
knight that is a good fellow; but” — and his fist 
clenched in menace as it lay on his knee — “ these 
proud bishops and archbishops ye may beat and 
bind as ye will, my merry men. As for the Sheriff 
of Nottingham ” — his brow cleared and he chuckled 
— “ to him do as ye will, and the worse the better.” 

The outlaws gave a great roar of laughter. 

“Ay, master! ” they cried. “We will hold him 
in mind.” 

“ Fear not, sweetheart! ” Robin added in a lower 
voice to Marian as he turned to her. “We harm 
no good men and true.” 

“ But ” — said Marian doubtfully — “ the bishops 
and archbishops — are they not holy men? ” 

At that Friar Tuck burst into a shout of scornful 
amusement. 

“Ah, sweet innocence! ” he cried, looking at Mar- 
122 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


ian with a kind of tender derision. “ They should 
be, lady, but alack the day ! many of them are not. 
They are ill followers of our Blessed Lord, oppress- 
ors of the poor, winebibbers, gluttons, hypocrites. 
I, who am a lowly friar, confess it with sorrow and 
mourning ” 

“ Is there aught in the cloth that leads to glut- 
tony and winebibbing, I wonder? ” observed Little 
John in a dreamy tone. “ Methinks this morning, 
Friar, I saw thee with a huge pasty and a flagon or 
two of choice liquor ” 

At any other time Friar Tuck would have given 
the huge fellow a great buffet for his impudence, 
but now he was in sober mood. 

“ I am no saint,” he said gravely, his round, jolly 
face very grave. “ I have never claimed to be; but 
neither am I a hypocrite, robbing widows, wrong- 
ing orphans, seeking naught but my own advan- 
tage ” 

Marian touched his brawny arm gently. 

“ Methinks thou art a good man, dear Friar,” 
she said in her soft voice. 

“ Well, master,” said Little John, “ to return to 
thy first commands, God speedily send us a guest, 
for I am ready now for my dinner.” 

“ Take thy good bow, Little John,” said Robin. 
“ Let Much and Scarlet go with thee, and see what 
guest ye can bring back.” 

The three men rose obediently, and set off 
through the trees. 


123 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Be it earl, baron, abbot, or knight, bring him to 
have dinner with me and lodgings afterwards/’ 
Robin called to them. 

Little John, Much and Scarlet went along the 
highway together after they had left the forest, and 
they looked east and west as they went, but could 
see no man. When they neared Bernysdale, in a 
small street on the outskirts of the town they saw a 
knight riding slowly towards them. 

Dreary was his semblance and little his pride. 
He sat stooping in his saddle as if bent with care; 
one foot was thrust into the stirrup, the other hung 
free. His hood was pulled over his eyes, and his 
dress was shabby and unkempt. Surely a sorrier 
man than he never rode on a bright summer’s day. 

Little John, Will Scarlet and Much exchanged 
glances. Then Little John stepped forward, and 
courteously bent the knee to the knight. 

“ Welcome are ye, gentle knight,” he said; “ and 
welcome are you to the greenwood, noble knight 
and free! My master waits fasting for your com- 
ing.” 

The knight started from his revery. 

“ Who is your master? ” he said, looking in as- 
tonishment at the three brawny men who stood in 
his pathway. 

“ So please you, his name is Robin Hood,” an- 
swered Little John. 

“A good man and a true! ” said the knight cour- 
teously. “ I have heard many gentle things said 
124 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


about him. I will go with you as you desire, al- 
though my purpose was to have dined at Blythe or 
Doncaster.” 

He turned his horse’s head, and followed whither 
they would. As they went on their way, however, 
he sank again into deep and evidently sombre 
thought. Once or twice tears rose to his eyes and 
ran down his face unheeded. Little John’s kind 
heart was greatly touched. 

“ Surely,” he thought, “ this poor knight is in 
some woeful pass; and I know that Robin will deal 
well with him.” 

Robin saw his guest coming from afar, and 
strode forward to greet him. 

“ Welcome, sir knight,” he said. “ Right wel- 
come art thou to me!” and courteously with the 
words he bared his head and knelt before his guest. 
“ I have abided your coming fasting for three 
hours, gentle sir.” 

“ God save thee, Robin, and all thy fair com- 
pany! ” the knight answered. 

Then Marian also came forward to greet the 
stranger, and at sight of her the knight leaped from 
his horse and bent above her hand in courteous wise. 
So presently they were all set down at dinner, after 
burly Friar Tuck had pronounced the grace as ex- 
peditiously as possible. 

It was a true greenwood feast; swans and pheas- 
ants and venison, with plenty of white bread and 
good wine. 


125 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Do well by my feast, sir knight! ” said Robin 
hospitably. 

“ Gramercy! ” answered the knight. “Such a 
feast have I not had for these three weeks. If I 
come again into this part of the country, Robin, I 
shall make as good a dinner for thee as thou hast 
here made for me.” 

“Gramercy!” said Robin in his turn. Then 
after a short pause, he went on, his eyes twinkling. 
“ Thou wilt agree with me, I am sure,” he said. 
“ It is not the custom for a poor outlaw to pay for a 
knight’s dinner. Therefore I must trouble thee, 
since thou likest the cheer, to pay the reckoning.” 

The knight flushed and his eyes fell. 

“An I had it, I would gladly pay thee,” he said 
in a low voice; “ but I have naught in my coffers to 
give thee. I am ashamed to say it, but ’tis the 
truth.” 

Robin looked the knight straight in the eyes. 

“ Pardon me, sir knight,” he said courteously ; 
“ but we are often deceived. I must e’en have my 
man Little J ohn test the truth of what thou sayest.” 

“ Thy man is welcome to do so,” answered the 
knight. “ I have but ten shillings in the world.” 

“ If in good sooth thou hast only that,” said 
Robin gently, “ I will not touch one penny of thy 
store, and if thou hast need of more I will lend it 
thee. Go, Little John, and examine the knight’s 
purse.” 

The knight handed over his purse to the giant 
126 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


outlaw, and Little John spread his mantle on the 
ground, and shook out the contents of the purse 
upon the green cloak. Then he gathered up the 
pitiful sum, and handed the coins to Robin. 

“ The knight is true enough, master,” he said. 

“ Here is our best wine,” said Robin, pushing a 
flagon towards the knight. “ Fill full thy horn, 
knight, and tell me then why thy purse is so light 
and thy clothing so thin. Hast been a sorry hus- 
bandman, or hast thou wasted thy living in sinful 
strife? ” 

“ Nay,” said the knight simply. “ For an hun- 
dred years my ancestors have been knights ; and up 
until two years ago, I was master of four hundred 
pounds of good money. Now, God hath so shaped 
it that I have nothing save my dear wife and my 
children.” 

“ In what manner hast thou so lost thy riches? ” 
asked Robin. 

“ By my folly and by my kindness,” answered 
the knight. “ My name is Sir Richard of the Lea. 
I have a son that should have been my heir ; but in 
fair joust he slew a knight of Lancaster, and to save 
him from punishment, I was obliged to sell all my 
goods and mortgage my lands to the Abbot of St. 
Mary’s.” 

“Ah ! ” said Robin slowly. “ What is the sum 
thou dost owe the Abbot? ” 

“ Four hundred pounds,” answered Sir Richard 
sadly. 


127 


ROBIN HOOD 


“And if thou dost not pay, and thou shalt lose 
thy land, what shall befall? ” Robin went on. 

“ In that case/’ answered the knight, “ I will be- 
take myself over the salt sea, and seek that land 
where Our Lord was quick and dead, to fight for 
the Holy Sepulchre. I doubt me not that is what 
shall befall, for I see naught better before me.” 

He arose, tears in his eyes. 

“ Farewell! ” he said to Robin. “ I thank thee 
again, friend, for thy dinner. Would I might bet- 
ter pay thee! ” 

“ Stay! ” said Robin. “ Hast no friend to stand 
thee in good stead now, and to help thee? ” 

“Ah!” answered the knight bitterly. “None 
knows me now. While I was rich, great boasts of 
friendship had I from many a one, but now they 
have all run away from me. They notice me no 
more than if they had never seen me.” 

Robin glanced away from the knight, and looked 
down the table in deep thought. His eye fell on 
Little John and Much and Scarlet, the three huge 
fellows who had brought Sir Richard to him. 
Tears stood in the eyes of all of them and ran down 
their cheeks unchecked. Evidently the knight’s 
tale had touched them deeply. 

“ Be seated again, Sir Richard,” said Robin, 
touching lightly the knight’s shoulder. “ Fill up 
thv horn once more with this good wine, and let us 
talk over thy affairs together. Hast no friend for 
thy surety, if thou couldst borrow the money? ” 

128 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Nay,” answered the knight quietly, “ I have no 
friend but God; and indeed Our dear Lady hath 
never failed me.” 

Robin bent his head. 

“ That word was well spoken, knight,” he said. 
“ My dear mother was named for Our sweet Lady, 
and for that reason I hold the Blessed Virgin high 
in my reverence and worship. She shall be thy 
surety. Go, Little John, and bring four hundred 
pounds from our treasury.” 

With evident delight, Little John sprang to his 
feet, and went off with Will Scarlet and Much. 
The three sought the cave where Robin kept his 
treasure, and Little John counted out the four hun- 
dred pounds that Robin had told him to bring. 
Will Scarlet noticed, however, that he added eight 
pounds more. 

“ Is this well told? ” he asked, pointing out the 
little extra heap of money. 

“ What grieves thee? ” said Little John sharply. 
“ ’Tis to help a gentle knight fallen into poverty.” 

He carried back the money to Robin, who handed 
it quietly to the knight. Sir Richard flushed and 
stammered as he tried to thank his benefactor. 

“ Master,” whispered Little John in Robin’s ear, 
“ his clothing is very thin. Let us give him a suit 
also, for ye have many a rich array in gold and scar- 
let. No merchant in England hath a better store.” 

“ Give him three yards of every color, and look 
that thou measure it well,” said Robin in reply. 

129 


ROBIN HOOD 


So Little John strode off once more to their 
treasure cave, again accompanied by Much and 
Scarlet, and he measured off the cloth as Robin had 
bidden him. He used his huge bow to measure, 
and at every bow-length he threw in an extra 
yard. 

Scarlet watched his lavish measuring, and 
laughed. 

“ No wonder thou art so generous, Little John,” 
he said teasingly. “ It costeth thee naught.” 

“Hold thy peace!” said Little John calmly. 
“ I have helped to win these things for our master, 
as hast thou. They belong to us all.” 

When he came back to Robin with the heaped-up 
cloth in his arms, Little John whispered again in his 
master’s ear: 

“ Thou must also give him a good horse, master, 
to bear home these goods.” 

“Ay,” said Robin. “ Give him a good gray 
courser and a new saddle. He is Our Lady’s mes- 
senger. God grant he be true ! ” 

“ Let him have a pair of boots also, master,” said 
Will Scarlet. “ He is a gentle knight.” 

“And what else wilt thou give him, Little John? ” 
asked Robin, seeing a gleam in the giant’s 
eyes. 

“ Sooth, sir, a pair of good spurs,” answered Lit- 
tle J ohn ; “ and then he may with reason pray for all 
our company.” 

“As thou wilt,” said Robin; and Little John ran 
130 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


off again, and presently returned, bearing a fine 
pair of spurs. 

“ Sir,” said the knight, tears of gratitude in his 
eyes as he turned to Robin, “ sir, name the day when 
I shall repay thee — I mean the money; for thy 
kindness and courtesy can I ne’er repay.” 

“ Let us say this day twelvemonth,” answered 
Robin, “ under this same greenwood tree where we 
have dined together; and now, Sir Richard, it were 
great shame for a knight to ride alone without yeo- 
man, squire or page to walk by his side. I will lend 
thee my best man, Little John, and he may stand 
thee in good stead.” 

Little John was nothing loth to go with Sir Rich- 
ard, for his good heart was filled with pity and kind- 
ness towards the knight. 

It was a very different Sir Richard who left Sher- 
wood from the dejected one who had entered the 
forest. With money in his purse to pay his debt, a 
good gray steed, fine cloth upon his saddle-bow, and 
newly clothed and booted and spurred, he bade 
farewell to Robin and Marian, Little John waiting 
in the background to accompany him on his way. 

“ God bless thee, bold Robin, and thy fair lady ! ” 
said the knight. “ In a twelvemonth thou shalt see 
me here again in Sherwood.” 

“ Farewell then, for a twelvemonth! ” answered 
Robin. 

He stood, his arm around Marian, her cheek 
against his shoulder, looking after the knight as he 

131 


ROBIN HOOD 


rode down the sun-flecked forest path, Little John 
following closely after. 

“ Our Lady is his surety,” murmured Robin; 
“ and Our Lady hath never failed me! ” 


132 


XII 


HOW SIR RICHARD PAID HIS DEBT 


He did him straight to Bernysdale, 
Under the greenwood tree, 

And he found there Robin Hood, 
And his merry company . 


XII 


HOW SIR RICHARD PAID HIS DEBT 

“ Go we now to dinner, master? ” hinted Little 
John. 

“ Nay,” said Robin, starting from a reverie. “ I 
fear me, Little John, that Our Lady is wroth with 
me. 

Little John looked perplexed. 

“And why, master? ” he said. “ Thou dost hear 
Mass whenever thou canst — ay, sometimes at great 
peril to thy skin ; and thou hast never done harm to 
any woman, nor to any company where there is a 
woman, for Our Lady’s dear sake.” 

“Ay, thou sayst true,” said Robin; “but look 
thou now, Our Lady was Sir Richard’s surety, and 
now his twelvemonth is past, and he is not come.” 

Little J ohn grew very red with earnestness. 

“ He will come, doubt it not, master,” he said. 
“ I would stake my life on Sir Richard’s honor. 
The twelvemonth is up to-day, I know; but see! 
The sun hath not set. If thou couldst have heard 
him as I rode home with him that night after he had 
discharged his debt to the churlish Abbot, and how 
he blessed thee ! His lady met him at the door of 
his castle — ah, a sweet lady she was, and nearly as 
135 


ROBIN HOOD 


beautiful as Mistress Marian! — ‘Welcome, my 
lord!’ she said to him. ‘Sir, are all thy goods 
lost ? 9 And she smiled at him right bravely, mas- 
ter, although her cheek was pale. ‘ Be merry, 
dame ! ’ quoth Sir Richard, and bussed her heartily. 
‘ Pray for Robin Hood that ever his soul be in bliss. 
He helped me in my trouble, and if it were not for 
his kindness, we should be beggars indeed. The 
Abbot is paid/ said the knight, great tears in his 
eyes, ‘ thanks to Robin Hood and Our Lady ! 9 99 

Marian, seated beside Robin, slipped her slender 
hand in his. 

“ I too have faith in the knight, Robin,” she whis- 
pered ; but Robin shook his head. 

“ Men forget,” he said. Then he shrugged his 
broad shoulders as if dismissing the subject from 
his mind. “ Take thy bow, Little John,” he cried; 
“ let Much and Scarlet go with thee, and see what 
guest ye can find me for dinner.” 

The three set forth obediently. When they 
reached the highway near Bernysdale, Little John 
gave a chuckle of delight; for whom should he see 
but the proud Abbot of St. Mary’s riding along 
with his Prior and his Cellarer? They were all 
three dressed as simple monks; but Little John rec- 
ognized them because he had accompanied Sir Rich- 
ard when he had paid his debt to the Abbot. 

Then said Little John to Much: 

“ I dare swear these monks have brought us our 
pay for dinner. Make glad cheer, my comrades, 
136 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


and hold your bows ready. Be brave of heart, and 
may your strings be trusty and true ! These simple 
monks travel well attended methinks. There are 
two hundred and fifty men with them and seven 
sumpter horses. No Bishop in the land rides more 
royally. Here are but three of us ; but if we bring 
not these men to dinner we dare not look again 
upon our master. Bend your bows and make 
ready. The foremost monk’s life and death are in 
my hand.” 

Then he spoke sternly to the first monk, who had 
by this time ridden up to where they were standing. 

“Abide, churl monk!” he said. “No farther 
durst thou go! If thou dost, by our dear God, I 
swear thy death is in my hand; ” and he aimed his 
arrow menacingly. “ Evil be on thee,” he con- 
tinued reproachfully, “ that thou hast kept our mas- 
ter so long waiting. He is wroth with fasting.” 

“ Who is your master? ” said the Abbot haugh- 
tily. 

“ Robin Hood,” answered Little John softly, still 
holding his arrow ready. 

The Abbot turned pale at the name, but he spoke 
blusteringly. 

“ He is a strong thief,” he said, “ of whom I have 
heard no good.” 

“ Thou liest,” answered Little J ohn, promptly 
and cheerfully; “ and moreover, thou shalt rue that 
lie. He is a sturdy yeoman of the forest, and he 
hath bidden thee to dinner.” 

137 


ROBIN HOOD 


The Abbot looked scowlingly at the three giants 
who blocked his pathway. 

“ Send away thy men,” said Will Scarlet gently, 

“ and come with us. If thou dost not ” he 

twitched his bowstring suggestively. 

The Abbot hesitated still; but at length with an 
angry scowl, he did as Will had suggested. Little 
John, a page and a groom led the sumpter horses, 
laden with the Abbot's goods. The Abbot, the 
Prior and the Cellarer followed the three merry 
men through the forest. 

Robin came forward to greet them when he saw 
them coming, and spoke with the utmost courtesy. 

“ Welcome, monk,” he said; “ welcome to merry 
Sherwood.” 

The Abbot glanced at him disdainfully, but 
vouchsafed no reply. 

“ He is a churl, master,” said Little John. 

“ He knows no courtesy, surely,” said Robin 
coolly. “ How many men had this monk whom 
thou hast brought hither, Little John? ” 

“ Fifty and two when we met,” replied Little 
J ohn ; “ but many of them be gone. I thought they 
were too many to invite to dinner, master.” Then 
he bent forward, and whispered in Robin’s ear. 
“ ’Tis no monk, but the Abbot of St. Mary’s,” he 
said. “ I was with Sir Richard, thou knowest, 
when he paid his debt.” 

“Ah! ” said Robin musingly. Then he lifted his 
bugle. “ Let us blow a horn that we may know 
138 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


fellowship ! ” he cried, and with that he blew his ac- 
customed signal, and seven score men came flocking 
in answer. 

“Welcome, my merry men!” said Robin cere- 
moniously. “ Great is our honor to-day. The 
Abbot of St. Mary’s dines with us.” 

Then the men raised a great shout of mocking 
welcome, which made the Abbot turn pale again; 
and then he was told to wash and wipe his hands 
and get ready for dinner. 

So presently they were all seated at the kind of 
woodland dinner that Robin and his men loved well, 
venison and white bread, and much wine and ale. 
The Abbot seemed to lose a little of his sulkiness 
when he saw the good cheer; and when Robin in- 
quired courteously: 

“ Where is your Abbey when you are at home, 
and who is your patron? ” he answered almost gra- 
ciously: 

“ Thou knowest, although I am puzzled that thou 
dost, that I am the Abbot of St. Mary’s, and these 
two holy men who are with me are my Prior and my 
Cellarer.” 

“ Well said! ” quoth Robin. “ I am glad thou 
dost come from St. Mary’s, for Our sweet Lady is 
my special devotion. Natheless I fear me she is 
wroth with me this day!” and he shook his head 
sadly. 

“ Have no doubt of that, master,” broke in Little 
John. “ Since this monk is of Our Lady’s abbey, I 
139 


ROBIN HOOD 


doubt me not she hath sent him to give thee thy 

pay” 

The Abbot pricked up his ears suspiciously at the 
word “ pay.” 

“ Thou seest,” Robin said to him in a tone of 
pleasant explanation, “ Our Lady was surety in a 
little transaction between a certain knight and me, 
of money that I lent to him here in the greenwood. 
Mayhap she has sent thee with the silver. If so, 
tell me, I prithee.” 

The Abbot pulled a very long face, and swore a 
great oath. 

“ By the Holy Trinity,” he said, “ I have never 
even heard of this debt of which thou dost speak.” 

Robin shook his head. 

“ Then, I make my vow to God thou art to 
blame,” he said;. “for we know God is righteous, 
and so is Our Lady. Thou hast told me with thine 
own tongue — thou canst not deny it — that thou art 
her servant. Without doubt she has sent thee, her 
servant, to pay my money. I am the more thank- 
ful that thou art come at thy day. It is just a 
twelvemonth since I made the loan.” 

The Abbot looked at once furious and helpless. 

“ Tell me truly,” continued Robin, “ what hast 
thou in thy boxes borne by thy sumpter horses yon- 
der? ” 

“ I have but twenty marks,” the Abbot replied, 
his face nearly purple with rage. 

“ If there be no more than that,” said Robin, “ I 
140 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


will not touch a penny; and if thou hast need of 
more, I will lend it to thee. Natheless, if I find 
thou hast more, thou shalt never see it again. Go, 
Little John, examine the Abbot’s store.” 

Little John spread his mantle on the ground, as 
he had done for Sir Richard, and proceeded to go 
systematically through the burdens of the sumpter 
horses. When all were examined, more than eight 
hundred pounds in gold lay on the green cloak, and 
the Abbot was fairly gnawing His fingers in des- 
peration. 

Robin looked at him contemptuously. 

“What told I thee?” he said. “ Our Lady is 
the truest woman that e’er I found.” 

“ Our Lady hath doubled thy venture, master,” 
said Little J ohn. 

“ I make my bow to God,” said Robin piously, 
“ no better surety could I have had. If ever Our 
Lady have need of Robin Hood, she shall find him 
a friend! ” 

“ Natheless this is little courtesy thou hast 
shown,” said the Abbot, finding his tongue at last. 
“ ’Tis ill done to bid a man to dinner, and then to 
rob him.” 

“ Thou mayest go now,” said Robin sweetly. 
“ God send me such a monk to dinner every day! ” 

Then the merry men helped the Abbot and the 
Prior and the Cellarer to get ready for departure, 
and with them the seven sumpter horses, now con- 
siderably lightened of their burdens; and as they 
141 


ROBIN HOOD 


turned from watching the departure of the train, 
whom should they see but Sir Richard of the Lea, 
riding towards them in the sunset light? 

The knight’s face grew radiant as he saw Robin. 

“ God save thee, Robin, and all this company! ” 
he cried, doffing his hood. 

“ Welcome be thou, gentle knight,” answered 
Robin; “ right welcome art thou to me.” 

“ Take it not amiss that I have been so long com- 
ing,” Sir Richard continued. “ I thank God and 
thee I have my lands again, and I started out in 
good time to keep my day; but several things kept 
me back. I helped a poor yeoman to get justice in 
a wrestling match ” 

“For that I thank thee,” interrupted Robin; 
“ for whoever helps a good yeoman will have Robin 
for his friend.” 

“ Have here then the four hundred pounds thou 
didst lend me,” said the knight, “ and twenty marks 
more for thy courtesy.” 

“ Nay,” said Robin, rejecting the purse the 
knight offered, “ Our Lady hath already sent me 
payment. Thou rememberest she was thy surety.” 

Sir Richard looked puzzled. 

“ It were a shame to me were I to take the money 
twice,” continued Robin. “ Natheless thou art 
truly welcome, sir knight.” 

Then he gave orders that supper should be 
served, and when they were all making merry to- 
gether, Robin explained to the knight how his debt 
142 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


had been paid. Sir Richard laughed, but he said 
doubtfully: 

“ By my truth, Robin, thy money is ready here,” 
and again he offered his purse. 

“ Enjoy it well, thou gentle knight,” said Robin, 
“ and welcome be thou now and always to our try st- 
ing tree! ” 

“ I have also brought with me a trifling gift for 
thee,” said Sir Richard. “ I would offer to thee 
and to thy merry men a hundred bows and a hun- 
dred sheaves of arrows adorned with peacock 
feathers. Take them, I beseech thee, in poor ac- 
knowledgment of thy goodness.” 

“I will do so, and gladly,” said Robin; “ and 
now, Little John, go to my treasury, and bring me 
four hundred pounds from the Abbot’s store. Take 
this money, Sir Richard,” he went on, when Little 
John returned with the gold, “ and buy horse and 
armor and spurs, and whatever thou dost need; and 
if ever thou fail to have money to spend, come again 
to Robin Hood, and by my troth, I shall not fail 
thee while I myself have goods to bestow.” 

So in feasting and pleasant talk they passed the 
evening, and afterwards Sir Richard spent the 
night in the greenwood, and the next morning went 
rejoicing on his way. 


143 






























, 
















. 

































' 



XIII 


THE WEDDING OF ALAN A DALE 


As Robin Hood in the forest stood, 

All under the greenwood tree , 

There was he ware of a brave young man, 
As fine as fine might be. 


XIII 


THE WEDDING OF ALAN A DALE 

As Robin stood under his favorite oak tree one 
day, busily engaged in shaping an arrow, he heard 
suddenly a snatch of gay song, and glancing out 
towards the woodland path, he saw something that 
made him smile with pleasure, since every kindly 
heart rejoices in the sight of youth and happiness. 

A stripling clad in vivid scarlet strode along the 
path. He went frisking along like some young 
lamb or colt, as if he were too happy to walk at a 
sober pace; and as he went he chanted a merry 
roundelay. 

“A goodly sight to behold! ” quoth Robin to him- 
self as he watched the youth out of sight. “ Heaven 
grant he may long keep his merry heart ! ” 

The very next day, however, as Robin stood in 
the selfsame place, he saw the same young man 
pass by; and lo, what a change was there! The 
stripling walked slowly and with drooping head; his 
steps lagged, his gay attire was smirched with the 
mud of the wayside, and his gay little song was 
hushed. Instead he kept shaking his head, and 
sighing with nearly every step, “Alack, and well a 
day! ” 


147 


ROBIN HOOD 


Presently Robin saw Little John and Much step 
out of a thicket and stand across the youngster’s 
pathway. Evidently the boy did not lack courage, 
for at sight of these two rather formidable men, 
he instantly seized his bow and bent it threat- 
eningly. 

“Stand off! stand off!” he cried almost petu- 
lantly. He hated to be disturbed in the midst of 
his fond hugging of his grief. “ What is your 
will? ” he asked defiantly. 

“ Thou must come at once to our master under 
yon greenwood tree,” said Little John, obeying an 
almost imperceptible signal from Robin. 

“Ah, well a day, so be it ! ” sighed the youth, 
shrugging his shoulders. “ It matters little what 
becomes of me!” So Little John and Much led 
him to Robin, who was still standing under the 
great oak. 

Robin said courteously: 

“ Hast any money to spare for my merry men 
and me? ” 

Tears rose to the young man’s eyes. 

“ I have no money,” he replied, his voice trem- 
bling, “ save five shillings and a ring. The ring I 
have kept for seven long years to have it in readi- 
ness for my wedding; but — but” — he paused and 
swallowed hard — “ Yesterday,” he went on, almost 
sobbing as he spoke, “yesterday, I should have 
married a maid, but she is now taken from me, and 
is bride to an old knight.” 

148 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


His voice broke on the last word, and he frankly 
wiped his eyes. 

“ My poor heart is slain!” he added tragically, 
clapping his hand on his chest with what sounded 
like entirely too healthy a thwack under the circum- 
stances. 

“ What is thy name? ” said Robin gently. 

“ Alan a Dale,” replied the youth. “ I am a 
minstrel,” and he indicated proudly the little harp 
slung across his shoulders. 

“And what wilt thou give me,” Robin continued, 
“ if I help thee to thy true love again, and deliver 
her unto thee? ” 

The boy stared at him incredulously. 

“ What will I give thee? ” he repeated at last. 
“Alack, sir, I have no money, no ready gold, noth- 
ing save the five shillings and the ring I told thee 
of ; and the ring I should need if — ah, I can scarcely 
believe it! Canst thou indeed bring back my Ellen 
to me? If thou dost — I have no money for thee; 
but I will swear upon the Book to be thy true 
servant forever ! ” 

“ How many miles is it to thy true love? ” asked 
Robin. 

“ By the faith of my body,” replied the boy 
eagerly, “ ’tis but five little miles. She is not 
wedded to the graybeard yet — only promised to 
him ! Oh, sir, canst thou truly make her mine?” and 
he gazed at Robin with so much faith and hope in 
his imploring gaze as to touch a much harder heart. 

149 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ When is the wedding of the graybeard and thy 
Ellen to take place? ” Robin asked. 

“ To-day at noon/’ Alan answered. His eyes 
filled again with tears as he spoke the sad 
words. 

“ Then no time is to be lost!” cried Robin briskly. 
“ Take this green cloak of mine, young Alan, and 
wrap it so close about thee that none shall know thee 
until the proper time. Good sooth, thou must first 
don a clean doublet and wash away those stains of 
dirt and tears from thy face, or fair Ellen may re- 
fuse thee as a bridegroom too sorry looking for her 
taste! Little John, see what thou canst find for 
him among our store. Much, bid Friar Tuck 
come hither; and now will I summon my men, and 
take some five and twenty along on this sweet quest. 
Then will I bid my Marian make ready for a pretty 
bride who will be in the forest to-night.” 

No sooner said than done. Robin set his horn to 
his lips and summoned his men according to his 
usual custom ; then selected a small body to go with 
him. In half an hour they were on the way, leav- 
ing Marian in a twitter of expectancy, to adorn her 
bower, and to make ready a feast to greet their 
return. The five and twenty men moved forward 
briskly, Friar Tuck and Little John among them. 
Alan a Dale, now quite radiant, led the company. 
He was wrapped in Robin’s cloak of forest green, 
but beneath it he wore a beautiful suit of scarlet and 
gold, well befitting a bridegroom. All the outlaws 
150 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


were muffled closely; in their cloaks, but Robin 
carried Alan’s harp slung across his shoulders. 

At length they came to the church where Alan 
had said the wedding was to take place. They 
found it all ready indeed, the altar gayly adorned 
with flowers, the guests gathering, and the Bishop 
waiting to perform the ceremony. 

Into the church went the outlaws, quietly and 
with reverence ; for although they had reason to hate 
many Churchmen, they loved, the Church. The 
Bishop was awaiting the bridal party at the church 
door ; and Robin, with Alan beside him, walked up 
the steps and greeted that dignitary. 

“ What dost thou here? ” said the Bishop in 
reply, glaring suspiciously at Robin. 

“ I am a bold harper,” quoth Robin jauntily, 
although in truth he did not know one string from 
another. “ Without boasting I may say that I am 
the best in the North Countree.” 

“ O welcome then,” said the Bishop more gra- 
ciously; “ for the music of the harp pleaseth me best 
of all. Let me have a taste of thy skill while we 
wait the bridal party.” 

“ Nay,” said Robin, “ you shall have no music 
until I see the bride and bridegroom.” 

“ Well, hither they come,” said the Bishop; “ and 
’tis full time, methinks.” 

There was a loud shout of welcome from the 
people in the churchyard as they saw the bridal 
party approaching. Robin heard poor Alan heave 
151 


ROBIN HOOD 


a deep sigh as the bride appeared; and indeed the 
kindly outlaw wondered little. A gayly dressed 
knight, old enough to be the bride’s father, was 
hobbling along evidently trying to look young and 
debonair; and just after him on her father’s arm 
walked a charming lass, her golden hair shining be- 
neath her veil. She was fair and fresh as a rose, 
but just now she resembled a rose wet and heavy 
with dew; for her sweet face was downcast and her 
blue eyes were brimming with tears. 

“ This is no fit match that I see here, my Lord 
Bishop,” quoth Robin boldly. “ May and De- 
cember are always ill at ease together; and right 
sure am I that the maid did not choose her own 
bridegroom. We are here at the church. Let the 
bride speak, and say whom she chooses for her dear 
husband.” 

At these words, Ellen looked up, and as she did 
so, her eyes met Alan’s, and the color flooded her 
pale face. 

Then Robin set his bugle to his lips, and out of 
the church door came flocking five and twenty men, 
clad in Lincoln green. 

“ Damsel,” said Robin courteously, stripping the 
green cloak from Alan’s shoulders and revealing 
the youth in all his bravery of scarlet and gold, 
“ damsel, this is thy true love, so I hear, young 
Alan a Dale. You two shall now be married before 
we leave this place.” 

“ Nay,” said the Bishop angrily, while the gray- 
152 



At these words Ellen looked up. 



























■ 




















































AND HIS MERRY MEN 


beard bridegroom sputtered and fumed like a 
turkey cock; “ nay, that shall not be! Thy word in 
this matter shall not stand. Hast forgot that it is 
the law of the land that the banns shall be thrice 
cried in the church? ” 

“ God forbid that I should break the laws of the 
land!” said Robin piously. “I must ask thee, 
Bishop, to lend my man Little J ohn thy coat, that 
all may be done decently and in order. Array thy- 
self in his vestments, Little John!” and without 
more ado, Little John did so, paying no attention to 
the Bishop’s protests. “ Now,” continued Robin 
cheerfully, “enter the church, and be thou clerk; 
and that there may be no doubt, call the banns seven 
times instead of three.” 

All of which commands Little John exactly 
obeyed. A ripple of laughter passed over the con- 
gregation as the giant, clad in the vestments in- 
tended for the short and portly figure of the Bishop, 
went up to the choir steps, and solemnly called the 
banns. 

“ So that is done,” said Robin cheerily. “ Now, 
Friar Tuck, it is time for thy work. Enter again 
the church, my merry men, and thou shalt see our 
jolly friar wed a second couple who will dwell in 
our dear forest.” 

Then once more the outlaws filed decorously into 
the church, accompanied hy Alan and Robin and 
the fair bride, now a happy one indeed, sweet as a 
dew-washed rose when the sunshine smiles again. 

153 


ROBIN HOOD 


The Bishop, the bride’s father and the elderly bride- 
groom were left fussing and fuming outside the 
church. Then before they had time to collect their 
wits, the knot was fast tied. Robin gave the bride 
away, and Friar Tuck performed the ceremony, 
not forgetting to kiss her at its conclusion. 

Ah, how different a bride it was who left the 
church from the one who had entered it! Fresh 
and happy as a queen she looked now, as she went 
down the aisle, leaning on her dear love’s arm, and 
followed by Robin and Little John. Then off they 
started for merry Sherwood. 

Marian stood smiling in the door of her bower 
to greet them, and merry was their wedding feast 
under the great oak tree. Then Alan took his harp 
and played such sweet beguiling music as the forest 
shades had never echoed before. 

So Sherwood had a minstrel added to its band of 
merry men, and Marian had a sweet girl friend to 
bear her company in the greenwood. 


154 


XIV 

HOW LITTLE JOHN WENT 
A-BEGGING 



/ 


All you that delight to spend some time 
A merry song for to sing , 

Unto me draw near, and you shall hear 
How Little John went a-begging. 


XIV 

HOW LITTLE JOHN WENT A-BEGGING 

“ Some of you must a-begging go,” said Robin 
suddenly, as he walked along one of the forest 
paths one morning, his arm thrown affectionately 
across Little John’s shoulders. “ Our treasury is a 
trifle low because our guests at dinner of late have 
been worthy and needy, so we have given instead 
of gotten. Ay, some of you must go a-begging. 
Little John, it must be thou!” and he gave the 
good-natured giant a great blow on the back. 

“As thou wilt, master,” answered Little John, 
never flinching under the blow which would have 
felled a lesser man to the earth. “Stay!” He 
stopped short, and his eyes grew bright as his im- 
agination kindled. “ If I must a-begging go,” he 
said with a slight swagger, “ I shall be a palmer, 
methinks. A palmer’s weeds would well become 
me. I will have a staff, master, of course, and a 
coat, and bags ” — he sighed rapturously — “ bags of 
all sorts. Being a palmer, I must have a cross on 
my shoulder ” 

“ Go to the treasure cave, tHou great baby ! ” 
cried Robin, giving him another great buffet on the 
ear. “ Take whatever thou wilt to wear and carry, 
and see what thou canst fetch back to us again.” 

157 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ A bag for my bread,” murmured Little John 
happily, his eyes misty with his day-dream, “ an- 
other for my cheese, and one for my pennies — nay, 
I shall get pounds, such a good beggar I shall be! ” 
and with that he strolled merrily away in the direc- 
tion of the cave. 

Before he reached it, however, he paused, and 
stood a moment in deep thought; then turned and 
strode at a good pace in the direction of the high- 
road. His own suit of hunters green was quite old 
and shabby, because it was nearing the time of year 
when Robin’s men usually had new clothing. The 
prudent thought that had arrested him had been 
that instead of using one of the palmer’s outfits in 
their store, he might exchange clothes with some 
one on the highroad, and so get rid of his old suit 
and assume a disguise at the same time. A palmer 
he had set his heart on being; so when he reached 
the road, he went gayly along, swinging his staff 
and whistling, quite sure that God would send him 
his desire. 

His faith was rewarded. Presently he saw com- 
ing towards him just such a palmer as Little John 
dreamed of being. The newcomer had three bags, 
and in all respects was dressed exactly as the giant 
outlaw had described to his master a short time 
since. Little John measured the palmer narrowly 
with his eye. There was only one disadvantage. 
The newcomer was a much smaller man than he. 
“ But,” said Little John to himself with a sigh, “ I 
158 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


can chance to meet few men who are of my height. 
Methinks I would best not let this chance pass me” 

So he hailed the palmer cheerily. 

“ Give ye good den,” he said. “ Wilt change thy 
garb with me?” Little John always believed in 
going directly to the point. 

The palmer glared suspiciously at Little John 
towering above him. 

“ How now? ” he said with a disagreeable snarl. 
“ What silly jape is this? ” 

“ No jape, by the rood! ” answered Little John. 
“ Come, I am in earnest ! I will give thee this hand- 
some suit of Lincoln green that I am wearing in 
exchange for that shabby old gown and those 
ancient bags of thine. Remember,” he added, gaz- 
ing lovingly at them the while, “ remember, I must 
have the bags — oh, empty, of course!” as the 
palmer clutched them jealously. “ I shall soon fill 
them again! ” 

The old man gave him another suspicious glare, 
and hesitated; but Little John’s air of confident 
expectation, added to his great height and bulk, had 
its effect. The palmer removed his shabby gown, 
albeit with grudging slowness, and Little John in 
return whipped off his green mantle and doublet 
and hose, and handed them over in exchange. A 
moment or two, and they stood dressed in each 
other’s clothes; but Little John was decidedly the 
worse off; for although his clothes hung on the 
palmer, the palmer’s rags were far too small for 
159 


ROBIN HOOD 


\ 


him. The sleeves of the gown did not reach his 
wrist, and the shabby shoes had been patched at 
least nine times. 

“ Christ’s curse on his heart who thinks my gown 
amiss,” said Little J ohn cheerfully, however, pull- 
ing in vain at his too-short sleeves. “ Now thy bags, 
good fellow! ” he added eagerly. “ Ah! ” and with 
a sigh of satisfaction, he adjusted them about his 
person. “ Now am I a beggar indeed! ” he mur- 
mured. “ Tell me now, good fellow, some phrases 
of thy begging, so I may be as beggar-like as any 
in my company.” 

“ Thou must go two foot on a staff,” the palmer 
replied, “ and the third on a tree; and thou must 
cry aloud when naught aileth thee.” 

“ I thank thee, and farewell,” said Little John; 
and with that off he went, trolling a merry song; 
for although he wore the beggar garb, he had not 
yet acquired the beggar spirit. 

He had not walked many miles along the high- 
road before he met a group of beggars, and has- 
tened at once to join them. 

“God save you, my brothers all!” he cried 
cheerily. “ God you save and me! ” 

They all looked at him sourly, even the one who 
was supposed to be blind. 

“We had rather such a cankered churl were not 
in our company!” said one of them ungraciously. 

“ Good-morrow, my dear brothers! ” Little John 
went on joyously, ignoring this crabbed speech. 

160 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Great is my fortune to see you. Which way do 
you go? Prithee tell me, for I want company.” 

They growled and muttered among themselves, 
but they neither answered directly nor said any- 
thing to stop him from joining them; so he added 
himself to their number without more ado. They 
were near Nottingham now, and the bells of the 
town were ringing. 

“Why, what is here to do?” said Little John 
gayly. “Why ring all these bells, my brothers? 
What dog is hanging? Let us go and see.” 

“ Here is no dog a-hanging,” said one of the 
beggars snappishly. “ Here is one dead, and per- 
chance we shall be given bread and cheese and alms 
at the house of mourning.” Then he paused and 
looked at Little John insolently. The giant indeed 
cut a comic figure in the palmer’s gown that was 
far too small for him, and with the patched clumsy 
shoes. “We have brethren in London and Coven- 
try and Dover,” he said; “ ay, all through the world; 
and never have I seen so crooked a churl as thou. 
Thou shalt go no farther with us. Stand back then, 
and take this knock on the crown! ” He raised his 
fist threateningly. 

“ Nay,” quoth Little John calmly, “ I’ll not yet 
be gone. I’ll have a bout with you all if ye will. 
Have at you, if you be so full of your blows ! Fight 
on, all four of you, friends or foes, and never give 
up! ” 

With that he seized the “ dumb ” beggar who so 
161 


ROBIN HOOD 


far had talked the most, and nipped him by the 
arm in a mighty pinch of such exquisite agony that 
the “ dumb ” one roared again. Then Little J ohn 
seized the shade which the “ blind ” beggar wore 
over his eyes, and gave him a punch between the 
eyes so that the blood ran down and for a moment 
he saw naught but stars. Next he fetched the 
“ deaf ” one a mighty box on the ear and his head 
rang as with the noise of many waters. Lastly he 
turned on the “ cripple,” and chased him in such a 
long, loping, purposeful fashion that the beggar 
nimbly unfastened his wooden leg, and showed that 
he had a pair of perfectly good ones which he turned 
to excellent account in outstripping Little John. 
In fact all four beggars began to run; but Little 
John continued to chase them, keeping within easy 
distance until they reached the walls of Notting- 
ham. Then Little John rounded up his victims, 
and with a sturdy buffet apiece from his great fist, 
he flung them all against the wall, from which they 
rebounded and lay panting with fatigue and terror. 
As they struck the stones there was a ringing sound 
which made Little John prick up his ears and smile 
sweetly. 

“ Methinks,” quoth he, “ my begging is over for 
the day ! Come, my good comrades, I am the victor, 
look you! Give me your bags as forfeit, I pray 
you.” 

They yielded them to him; sulkily, but they dared 
not refuse, for he stood over them, his great fists 
162 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


ready. Then in their full sight, while they lay 
baffled and helpless, he leisurely counted the con- 
tents of their bags and transferred the money to his 
own. There was a merry chink of gold and silver 
as he did so, and a broad smile of satisfaction over- 
spread Little John’s countenance. 

“Here be your bags!” he exclaimed at last, 
flinging the empty pouches to their owners. “ Now, 
dance again, lame man, sing for joy, dumb man, 
and hear thou his merry music, deaf man. See, 
blind man, this kiss of thanks which I waft to thee 
from my fingers for this treasure ye have given me. 
My fortune hath been so good that methinks I will 
not go to Nottingham but hie me home again to 
the forest.” 

So he turned and left them without more ado. 

He found Robin and his merry men waiting for 
him under the oak tree. It was nearly supper time 
when he reached them. They raised a great shout 
of laughter when they saw Little J ohn in his shabby 
ill-fitting palmer’s garb. 

“ What news? what news? ” said Robin merrily. 
“ How hast thou sped with thy beggar’s trade, 
Little John? ” 

“ No news but good,” replied Little John cheer- 
fully. “ I have sped well with my begging, master.” 

With that he thrust his hand into his beggar’s 
bag, and held aloft a great handful of silver and 
gold. 

“ I have here for our treasury,” he said, swagger- 
163 


ROBIN HOOD 


in g a little, and who could blame him? “ six hundred 
pounds and three.” 

The outlaws raised a shout of astonishment and 
admiration, and Robin sprang up and seized Little 
John by the hand. 

“ Well done, my master beggar! ” he cried. “ If 
we drink water while this treasure lasts, an ill death 
may we die ! ” 


164 


HOW ROBIN TEASED THE TINKER 


As Robin came to Nottingham , 
A Tinker he did meet, 

And seeing him a lusty blade, 
He did him kindly greet. 


XV 


HOW ROBIN TEASED THE TINKER 

One beautiful summer morning, when the leaves 
were green and the birds singing in the trees, Robin 
went striding along merrily towards Nottingham. 
As he drew near the town, he saw a Tinker, a round, 
rosy fellow, with a snub nose, tow-colored locks, and 
an air of great importance which sat oddly on his 
most unimpressive countenance. He carried in his 
hands and strung about his person pots and pans 
in various stages of repair which showed plainly his 
trade. 

“ Where dost thou live, Tinker? ” asked Robin. 
“ I hear there is sad news abroad,” he added with a 
sigh. 

The Tinker looked alarmed. 

“ What is that news? ” he asked curiously. 

“ Ah, I fear all is not well! ” said Robin, groan- 
ing in apparent distress. “ Why, Tinker, I hear — 
whether it be true or false I know not — I hear that 
two tinkers have been set in the stocks for drinking 
ale and beer.” 

The Tinker flushed angrily. 

“ If that be all,” he said tartly, “ all I can say is 
your news is worth nothing. I am a tinker, and I 
live at Banbury, and I have heard nothing of what 
167 


ROBIN HOOD 


you say. I dare swear you can do your part in 
drinking good ale and beer.” 

Robin laughed so good-naturedly that the 
Tinker’s stern countenance relaxed. 

“ Nay, by my faith,” he said, “ I love them both 
with all my heart. Now tell me what news thou 
hast heard abroad as thou hast wandered up and 
down in thy trade.” 

“ All the news I have heard is for good,” said 
the Tinker, bristling importantly. “It is that the 
business at present of all true men in merry Eng- 
land is to capture that bold and sturdy outlaw, 
Robin Hood.” 

Robin glanced sharply at the Tinker, but the 
latter’s expression was one of babe-like innocence. 
Robin could not decide whether the look was as- 
sumed or not. The next moment, however, his 
doubts were dissipated. 

“ I have a warrant here in my bosom from the 
King for his arrest,” the Tinker continued impor- 
tantly, tapping his doublet just above his heart. 
“ It gives me power to take Robin Hood where I 
can. If thou canst tell me where he is, I will make 
a man of thee ! ” and he smiled condescendingly at 
Robin. 

Robin was satisfied that the Tinker was ignorant 
of his identity. The latter would not so openly have 
announced his errand, and asked Robin’s assistance 
had he thought that the man he wanted stood before 

him. 


168 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Let me see! ” said Robin reflectively. “ I give 
thee my good wishes, Tinker, that thou mayst take 
Robin where thou canst! As to where he is” — 
he paused, and shook his head — “ I fear me thou 
must find him for thyself,” he concluded. 

“ The King will give a hundred pounds to see 
him,” the Tinker went on, his hand thrust within 
his doublet, and evidently clutching the precious 
warrant. “ If we could but capture him, thou and 
I, it would serve us both well.” 

“ Mayhap! ” said Robin, with entire truthfulness. 
“ It would serve thee well, Tinker, doubtless. For 
me — I confess, there are other ways of getting 
money that would please me better.” 

“ Tut, man! ” said the Tinker eagerly. “ Think! 
Fifty pound between us! ” 

“ Ay,” said Robin, with seeming indecision. He 
stretched out his hand to the Tinker. “ Let me see 
that warrant, prithee,” he said. “ I shall doubtless 
behold Robin ere the sun rise again. We are near 
his favorite haunts, thou knowest.” 

“ Ay,” said the Tinker, looking rather frightened 
as he glanced around him, and still clutching the 
hidden paper. “ Nay,” he went on stubbornly, “ I 
will trust the warrant into no hands but mine own. 
If thou canst not tell me where Robin is, and so 
share the reward with me, I must e’en alone seek 
him and take him by force! ” and he flourished im- 
portantly the crab-tree staff he carried. 

Robin’s eyes twinkled. 

169 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Let us e’en go together into Nottingham,” he 
said, laying a soothing hand upon the Tinker’s 
shoulder. “We may find him there — nay, I am 
sure he will be there by the time we are.” 

“ It is well said, and I am content to do so,” said 
the Tinker graciously; and much pleased, they 
went along together. 

When at last they entered Nottingham Robin 
proposed going to the Saracen’s Head, an inn 
where he was well-known, where in fact the incident 
had taken place that led to his outlawry. He knew 
that he was perfectly safe from betrayal unless some 
of the Sheriff’s men recognized him; for so many 
were his kindly deeds towards the people in general 
by this time that any one of them would have risked 
life itself in his behalf. When they reached the inn, 
Robin ordered both ale and wine, and the Tinker 
and he began to drink together. The Tinker, how- 
ever, drank far more than Robin, expecting that the 
latter would pay the reckoning; and presently his 
tongue became thick, and his eyes began to blink. 
Soon his head dropped on the table, and he was 
sound asleep, forgetting all about Robin Hood and 
the warrant for his arrest. Then Robin, watched 
by the grinning host, slipped out the paper from 
its hiding-place, examined the Tinker’s purse, and 
saw that he had enough to pay the reckoning. He 
handed the purse to the host, and himself went 
gayly back towards Sherwood, tearing the warrant 
for his own arrest into tiny fragments as he went, 
170 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


and strewing them along the roads and path- 
ways. 

Three hours later, the Tinker awoke and rubbed 
his eyes. 

“Where am I?” he said stupidly, and almost 
instinctively, his hand sought the warrant within 
his doublet. When he found it gone, he was in- 
stantly sobered, and he gave a loud howl of anguish 
which brought the host and the servants running. 

“Alack, the King’s warrant!” he cried, desper- 
ately clutching at his doublet with the wild hope 
that the paper might still be there. “ I am robbed, 
I am robbed! ” and he wrung his hands with another 
loud howl of anguish, and began to stamp up and 
down the room — somewhat waveringly, for his head 
was not yet perfectly clear. 

The host seized and shook him in great apparent 
anger. 

“What hurlyburly is this?” he thundered. 
“ What aileth thee, thou silly Tinker? ” 

“ I am robbed, I am robbed! ” wept the Tinker, 
and howled again. “ I had a warrant from the 
King for the arrest of that bold outlaw, Robin 
Hood; a warrant that meant much benefit to me; 
but now my warrant’s gone, and he that promised 
to be my friend and help me find that sturdy thief 
hath fled away ! ” 

“ That friend thou talkest of,” said the host. 
“ Dost mean that man who was drinking with thee 
these three hours since? ” 

171 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Ay,” said the Tinker, gazing at the host with 
hope in his expression. 

“ Why, thou zany,” said the host, “ didst not 
know his name? ” 

“ No, sooth I did not,” said the Tinker. “ What 
is his name? ” 

“ Why, that was Robin Hood himself! ” cried the 
host, and he roared with laughter, which was echoed 
by all the inn servants. 

The Tinker stared at them stupidly, his mouth 
fallen wide open. 

“ Robin Hood! ” he repeated, gasping like a fish 
out of water. 

“ Ay, and methinks when he first met thee, he 
meant thee little good,” said the host of the Sara- 
cen’s Head. 

The Tinker grew red with rage. 

“ Had I known it was he,” he muttered, “ one of 
us should have tried our strength and paid full dear 
for that warrant. Meantime I must away. I’ll 
abide here no longer, but go seek him out.” 

“ Tarry a little! ” said the host, laying a restrain- 
ing hand on his shoulder. “ First pay thy reckon- 
ing!” 

The Tinker turned pale. 

“ What have I to pay? ” he moaned, seeking 
frantically meanwhile in his pockets for the purse 
which was at that moment reposing safely in the 
host’s till. 

“ Just ten shillings,” said the host calmly. 

172 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Take but my working bag and my good ham- 
mer,” implored the Tinker, thrusting both into the 
host’s hands as he spoke. “ Take them for surety. 
I swear I will come again and pay thee. Leave me, 
I pray thee, but my crabtree staff!” and he 
clutched it viciously as he spoke. “ If I but light 
on the knave, I’ll pay thee without delay! ” 

The host hesitated; but he knew that the Tinker’s 
purse was already his; and he was curious to see 
what would happen next. Besides, the bag of tools 
was of considerable value. 

“ Be it so! ” he answered, with apparent reluc- 
tance. “ No doubt thou wilt find him in the green- 
wood, killing deer.” 

So the Tinker went forth from the inn, flourish- 
ing his crabtree staff, and breathing forth threaten- 
ings and vengeance against Robin Hood. He had 
quite slept off his drunkenness, and he strode along 
at so rapid a pace that it was not long before he 
reached Sherwood. In a glade near the edge of 
the forest, he saw a familiar figure, with bow bent, 
ready to shoot a deer. 

“ Fie upon thee, thou naughty fellow! ” cried the 
Tinker furiously; and with that, he strode up to 
Robin, flourishing his crabtree staff. 

The noise of his approach startled the deer, and it 
bounded lightly away. Robin turned towards him 
frowning. 

“ What knave is this that doth come so near me 
to spoil my good hunting? ” he said sternly. 

173 


ROBIN HOOD 


“No knave am I, no knave at all,” said the 
Tinker furiously. “ That thou shalt soon know. 
My crabtree staff shall show thee speedily which 
of us hath done most wrong.” 

“ So be it! ” said Robin shortly, for he was out of 
temper at the loss of his deer. He drew his sword 
without more ado. 

Then the Tinker flourished his crabtree staff, and 
began to lay on so lustily that Robin at length 
reeled under his blows. He was furious that so 
stupid a knave should even so far overcome him, 
and he began to fight with his full strength. The 
Tinker, however, was vigorous and lusty, and 
Robin was not so skilful with either sword or staff 
as he was with the bow. At last the Tinker had 
thrashed him so sorely that Robin was perforce 
obliged to cry out: 

“ A boon, a boon! ” 

“ Before I grant thee a boon,” replied the 
Tinker, who now had the best of the situation, and 
knew it, “ before I grant thee a boon, I’ll hang thee 
on this tree! ” 

“Suffer me at least to blow my horn!” said 
Robin, quickly suiting the action to the words, and 
without more ado, he wound his bugle thrice, as 
was his custom in summoning his men. Presently 
there came striding towards them Little John and 
Will Scarlet. Robin, sorely wounded, had stag- 
gered to the bank and sunk down upon it. 

“ What is the matter,” cried Little John anx- 
174 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


iously, “ that thou dost sit there so droopingly, mas- 
ter? ” 

Robin smiled ruefully. 

“ Yon Tinker,” quoth he, “ hath caused me to 
feel the weight of his arm.” 

“ I’ll see what he can do for me ! ” observed Little 
John baring his sword threateningly. 

“ Nay,” said Robin. “ I deserved all that he 
hath given me. I played a sorry jest on thee, poor 
fellow,” he went on, addressing the Tinker. “ Now 
that thou hast had satisfaction, dost think thou canst 
henceforth live at peace with me? Thou hast shown 
thy mettle, and hast caused Robin Hood to fear 
thee. If thou wilt be one of my merry men, we’ll 
fare together, and whatsoever we do get, thou shalt 
have thy full share of. To thee, thou jovial Tinker, 
I’ll give one hundred pounds a year, as long as thou 
dost live. Art content? ” 

The Tinker gasped and nodded. He looked very 
foolish with his snub nose and his open mouth, but 
he had proved himself a man well worthy to be one 
of Robin’s men. 

That night a messenger was sent to the inn at 
Nottingham to get the Tinker’s bag of tools and to 
pay his reckoning. His purse was restored to him 
untouched. So all the pots and pans used by Nick 
Much the cook were kept in order thereafter, and 
Robin had turned an enemy into a friend. 


175 





4 








XVI 

HOW ROBIN OUTWITTED THE 
BISHOP 


Come , gentlemen all , and listen awhile , 

And a story to you I’ll unfold; 

I’ll tell you how Robin Hood served the Bishop , 
When he robbed him of his gold. 


XVI 


HOW ROBIN OUTWITTED THE BISHOP 

“ Sweetheart/’ said Robin to Marian one 
morning, 44 we are to have noble company at dinner 
to-night. Do thou and Ellen prank yourselves in 
gay attire.” 

Marian smiled at him a little anxiously. 

44 Who is it to be, Robin? ” she said. 44 Oh, dear- 
est, see that thou go not too far in thy noble scorn 
of the rich and the oppressor! ” 

Robin kissed her. 

44 Fear not, beloved,” he said. 44 ’Tis the Bishop 
of Hereford is to dine with us to-day, although as 
yet he knows it not,” he added chuckling. 44 1 hear 
he is to pass through Sherwood with all his fair 
company.” 

Marian shook her head even while she smiled. 

44 Ah, Robin,” she said, 44 when thou dost so love 
the Church, I can never understand why thou art 
so harsh to the servants of the Church.” 

44 Nay,” answered Robin gently, 44 1 am not harsh 
to all of them. Thou knowest well, Marian, that 
all the poor and lowly parish priests, those who live 
such a life as Our Lord commanded, — such men 
love me, and pray for my welfare. As for those 
179 


ROBIN HOOD 


whited sepulchres, the fat Bishops and pursy Ab- 
bots, who lead lives devoted only to oppressing the 
humble and indulging themselves, — them will I 
tease and harry until I shall have awakened them 
for a time at least from their sleek worldliness. 
Would that England were rid of them all! Nathe- 
less their day will come, their day will come! ” 
Marian sighed, but said no more, for she knew 
that Robin spoke truly. 

“We go now to kill venison for the Bishop’s 
dinner,” Robin continued. “ Wilt come hunting 
with us, sweet, or rest in thy bower? ” 

“ Nay, Ellen and I will make ready for our 
guest,” Marian answered smiling; “ we must array 
us in our best since thou dost wish us to be so fine ! 
Farewell, Robin, and good hunting!” and off she 
went in search of Alan a Dale’s pretty wife. 

Then Robin called together some half dozen of 
his men, and they killed a fat buck in short order. 
Then they dressed themselves in shepherds’ smocks, 
and built a fire beside the road along which the 
Bishop and his train were expected. 

When at length, with a great jingling of spurs 
and clattering of hoofs, the Bishop and his attend- 
ants came riding along the highway, they saw seven 
tall shepherds gathered around a roaring fire, near 
which lay a fat buck all ready for roasting. 

“ Oh, what is the matter,” the Bishop called to 
them rebukingly, “ that ye make this ado? Why 
do ye kill the King’s venison, ye naughty men? ” 

180 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“We are shepherds, my Lord Bishop,” replied 
Robin, meekly pulling his forelock in token of re- 
spect. “We keep sheep all the year, and this is our 
holiday ; so we have killed a deer. The King hath 
many deer, methinks, and can well spare one to us 
poor silly shepherds.” 

“ You are brave fellows! ” said the Bishop sneer- 
ingly. “ The King shall know of your doings, be- 
lieve me! Make haste and go along with me, for 
at once ye shall go before the King.” 

“Oh, pardon, I pray you, my Lord Bishop!” 
cried Robin, wringing his hands and apparently in 
great distress. “ Have mercy upon us ! It becomes 
not your Lordship’s coat to rob so many poor men 
of their lives ! ” 

“ No pardon! ” said the Bishop sternly. “ Come 
along with me, and before the King for judgment 
ye shall surely go.” 

Then Robin set his back against a tree, and from 
underneath his shepherd’s cloak, he drew his horn. 
He blew a loud blast, and the Bishop, sitting on his 
steed, saw in a trice three score and ten men 
running towards him from among the trees and 
rising from the moss. He turned pale at the for- 
midable array. 

“ What is the matter, master, that thou dost blow 
so hastily? ” quoth one giant of seven feet, kneeling 
to the shepherd beside the tree, as did all the other 
merry men. 

“ Here is the Bishop of Hereford,” answered 

181 


ROBIN HOOD 


Robin; “ and he says that we shall have no pardon 
for killing this deer.” 

“ Oh, he! ” said Little John casually, throwing a 
careless glance at the Bishop, and rising as he spoke. 
“Let us cut off his head, master, and throw him 
into his grave! ” 

The Bishop’s teeth began to chatter. 

“Oh, pardon, pardon!” he cried abjectly, his 
tone entirely changed. “ If I had known you were 
here, Robin Hood, I would surely have gone some 
other way.” 

“Good sooth, I know that right well!” cried 
Robin, shaking with laughter. “No pardon, no 
pardon, my Lord Bishop ! ” and he mocked the 
Bishop’s former manner. “ Make haste and come 
along with me, for you are to dine with me to-day.” 

Then he sprang forward, helped the Bishop 
down from his horse, and began to lead him along 
the forest path. His followers went also, guarded 
by Robin’s men, and like the Bishop shaking in 
their shoes. 

When at length the Bishop came to the great 
oak tree, Robin’s favorite trysting place, he grew 
calmer. Marian, dark and slender, and Ellen, fair 
and round, greeted him with gentle courtesy; and 
he could not help feeling that nothing very evil 
could happen to him in the presence of these two 
lovely women. He enjoyed in spite of himself the 
noble feast that followed on the fat deer that Robin 
and his men had killed. There was plenty of white 
182 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


bread, too, and wine and ale. Despite the excel- 
lence of the dinner, however, the Bishop was un- 
easy; for he had heard enough of Robin to know 
that he was unfriendly towards ecclesiastics of his 
Lordship’s kind. 

“ Call in the reckoning,” he said pompously at 
length, when the feast was nearly oyer. “ Methinks 
it grows wondrous high.” 

“ I must e’en trouble you for your purse, my 
Lord Bishop,” said Little John cheerfully, “ and 
then I can tell you better what the reckoning is.” 
He held out his huge paw suggestively. 

The Bishop glared at him, but he was afraid to 
refuse. He handed over, sulkily enough, the pouch 
that hung by his side. 

Little John, whistling cheerfully the while, 
shook out its contents into the Bishop’s cloak, which 
he had laid on the greensward for that purpose. A 
huge pile of gold and silver lay there when he had 
done so, and he began to count it systematically. 

“ Three hundred pounds! ” he said at last, grin- 
ning at the Bishop. “ Here is money enough, mas- 
ter,” he continued, turning to Robin, “ and a goodly 
sight to see. It makes me in sweet charity with the 
Bishop, although I know he loves me not.” 

The Bishop sat glaring hopelessly at the pile of 
money on the cloak, and clenching and unclenching 
his fists, as if he longed to use them on Robin Hood 
and Little John. 

“ I thank thee for thy reckoning, Lord Bishop! ” 
" 183 


ROBIN HOOD 


cried Robin, seizing one of the Bishop’s unwilling 
hands, and making him rise. “ Now before we let 
thee go, thou seest we poor sinners are much in need 
of spiritual consolation. It has been some time 
since we have heard Mass. Thou shalt sleep in the 
greenwood to-night, and to-morrow morn thou 
shalt sing a Mass for us before we let thee go.” 

The Bishop gave him a look in reply that was 
simply venomous ; but nothing could prevent Robin 
from doing his will. With great ceremony, he was 
►presently escorted to one of the caves, where he was 
given a bed of soft moss and a green cloak to cover 
him. What kind of night he passed, furious and 
fearful as he was, it is not hard to guess ; but very 
early next morning, he was aroused from his uneasy 
slumbers, and led with great ceremony to the rural 
altar, where Friar Tuck stood waiting to act as 
Server. He was given a cave near by in which to 
vest himself, and when he came out, he found a 
great congregation of outlaws waiting with Marian 
and Ellen in their midst. So, unwillingly he cele- 
brated Mass, and then at last they let him go. 

As a parting jest, they set him face back- 
wards on his horse, and tied him into the saddle. 
In this fashion the Bishop rode back to Hereford, 
breathing out threatenings and vengeance against 
Robin Hood. 

Turn about is fair play, however, and Robin him- 
self would have been the first to agree to this. Not 
many days after, Robin was walking alone through 
184 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


the forest, and again he saw the Bishop and his 
train. 

“ What shall I do,” he said to himself, “ if the 
Bishop takes me? No mercy he’ll show me, I know, 
and likely I shall be hanged. Since I am alone, I 
could ill defend myself if he chances to see me.” 

Then he looked about him and saw a little brown 
house, wherein dwelt, he knew, an old wife to whom 
he had shown various kindnesses in the past. 

“ She will hide me, I am sure,” said Robin to 
himself ; and he strode briskly up to the little house, 
and knocked on the door. 

“ Ho, good wife! ” he cried. “ Wilt save a poor 
fellow from death? ” 

The door opened cautiously, and a little old 
woman stood on the threshold. 

“ God have mercy! ” she cried, blinking at him. 
“ ’Tis our own Robin, friend of the poor! Come in, 
master. What is your will? ” 

“ The Bishop and all his men are near,” Robin 
whispered, bending down to her; “ and if I am 
taken, I shall be surely hanged.” 

“ Nay, then, God forbid!” quoth the old dame. 
“ I’ll provide for thee, dear Robin! Well do I re- 
member one Saturday night, thou didst bring me 
shoes and hose that I might appear with the best 
of them at Mass on Sunday. Ay, I’ll hide thee 
from thy foes. What way is best? ” 

Robin stripped off his green mantle. 

“ Give me then thy gown of gray,” he whispered. 

185 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Take thou my arrows and give me thy spindle — 
thus. I thank thee. Farewell, good mother, until 
I see thee again; ” and presently a bent little old 
woman in a brown cloak, her head bent over a 
spindle, passed directly by the Bishop and his train 
as they rode along, and she dropped a humble 
curtsey to his Lordship, as she went. 

A few moments later, Little John saw the same 
old woman coming towards him. 

“ Ah, who is this? ” he cried. “ Methinks I’ll let 
fly an arrow at her, for she looks marvellously like 
a witch.” 

“ Prithee, hold thy hand, Little John,” said 
Robin’s well-known voice. He bared his head, and 
stood laughing in his follower’s amazed face. 
“ Again,” he said, “ I have outwitted the Bishop. 
“ Come with me, and I will tell thee all.” 

Meanwhile the Bishop and his train had ridden 
up to the door of the little cottage; for some of them 
had seen a man in a green cloak enter there, and 
he looked like one of the outlaws against whom the 
Bishop had sworn vengeance. 

“ Come, woman,” quoth the Bishop loudly, 
“ hand over that traitor Robin Hood. He was seen 
to enter thy door! ” 

When he went in, however, he saw a figure in 
green with the hood pulled over the face, seated be- 
side the fire. The Bishop’s eyes grew bright with 
triumph. 

“ Ha! At last! ” he said. “ Now, my fine f el- 
186 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


low, thou shalt meet with justice at last. Bring 
hither yon milk white steed.” 

So the green clad figure, not without resistance, 
was hoisted on to the white horse, and the Bishop 
rode through the forest, feasting his eyes on the 
outlaw who was now in his hands. 

Presently, however, as they went along, the 
Bishop chanced to see a group of men in green 
standing under a tree near by; and one of them 
looked strangely familiar. 

“ How now? ” quoth the Bishop, rubbing his 
eyes. “ Who is that yonder? ” and he glanced per- 
plexedly from the figure under the tree to the one 
on the horse just before him. 

The one on horseback spoke for the first time. 

“ Why,” said a high, piping old woman's voice, 
“ why, that is Robin Hood.” 

“Robin Hood!” echoed the Bishop, his jaw 
dropping. “ Who then art thou? ” 

She gave a cackle of shrill laughter. 

“ Why,” she said, “ I’m a silly old woman. 
See!” and she threw back the green hood, and 
showed her wrinkled face and her gray hair. 

“ Woe is me that ever I saw this day! ” cried the 
Bishop. “ Let her go, my men, and look ye tell 
nobody what a fool she hath made of me! Curses 
on both thee and him!” he exclaimed, shaking his 
fist, first at the old woman and then at Robin’s dis- 
tant figure. “ Curses on ye both! I’ll have him 
yet!” 


187 


I 





XVII 


HOW ROBIN BECAME THE QUEEN’S 
ARCHER 


Now list you , lytlie you, gentlemen , 
Awhile for a little space, 

And I shall tell you how the Queen 
Got Robin Hood his grace . 


XVII 


HOW ROBIN BECAME THE QUEEN’S ARCHER 

“Ha! what fine sprig have we here? ” quoth 
Robin, coming to a sudden pause in his rapid walk, 
and peering through the trees towards the path. 
“ So! the boy is in danger, and he knows it not. 
That toy bow of his is useless, and the sword he 
clutches so valiantly is little better against that 
stag who lowers horns at him in such threatening 
guise.” And with that Robin dispatched an arrow 
from his own bow which pierced the stag through 
the heart. Then he parted the bushes and walked 
forward. 

A boy gayly dressed, half sitting, half lying on 
the moss, looked up at Robin coolly. 

“ I thank thee/’ he said in a tone that was almost 
condescending. “ I am a page at court, and not 
skilled in woodland lore. The stag tossed me once. 
I fear that the second time ” 

“ The second time, it would have mattered little 
to thee had he tossed thee a third,” said Robin, help- 
ing the boy to his feet. “ What seekest thou here 
in the forest, sir page? Can I be of service? ” 

“ Knowest thou Robin Hood?” asked the boy 
eagerly. “ Methinks thou must be one of his band.” 
He bared his young head. “ I am sent to seek him,” 
191 


ROBIN HOOD 


he said, “ by no less a person than the Queen’s 
Majesty.” 

Robin doffed his hood of forest green at mention 
of the Queen’s name. 

“ Welcome then, young sir, whosoever thou may- 
est be,” he said. “ I am Robin Hood.” 

“ Art thou indeed Robin Hood? ” cried the boy 
eagerly. “ Well, then, my errand is soon accom- 
plished. The Queen sends thee this ring, and with 
it a royal message;” and falling on his knees he 
whipped a letter out of his pocket and presented 
it to Robin. 

The letter was wrapped in scarlet cord, and 
sealed with the royal seal. Robin pressed it rever- 
ently to his lips before he opened it. 

“ She bids me here to come to court, as no doubt 
thou knowest, sir page,” he said at length, thrust- 
ing the missive into his doublet. “ She bids me al- 
though I am outlaw to fear nothing, and acknowl- 
edges graciously the little sum of money that we 
took from the King’s harbingers, and sent to 
her ” 

He broke off and stood a moment in deep 
thought, pushing the Queen’s ring absently up and 
down on his little finger — the only one that it would 
fit. Then he took off his mantle of Lincoln green, 
folded it neatly, and gave it to the page. 

“ Give this to Her Majesty,” he said, “ and tell 
her it is a token that I will not fail her. What is 
thy name, sir page? ” 


192 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Richard Patrington,” answered the youngster. 

“ Welcome then to Sherwood, Richard Patring- 
ton, said Robin. “ Wilt stay and dine with me 
to-night? ” 

“ Nay,” answered the page, “ I may not tarry. 
I will bear back at once to the Queen thy token and 
thy answer.” 

“ I will give thee then safe conduct through the 
forest,” said Robin. “ Those court weapons of 
thine were of little avail in real danger, as thou hast 
proved.” 

Accordingly he escorted the little page to the end 
of the forest, and having seen him safely on the 
highway, went striding back to his trysting tree to 
summon his men and tell them of the Queen’s sum- 
mons. 

He found Marian seated under the tree, examin- 
ing her arrows; and when she heard the news she 
turned pale. 

“ It may be a trick,” she said. “ Oh, dear heart, I 
am uneasy when thou dost venture into Notting- 
ham! What shall I feel when thou art gone to 
London? ” 

“ Nay, if thou wilt,” answered Robin gayly, 
“ thou shalt go with me as one of the Queen’s arch- 
ers. Nay, fear not, dearest! The Queen gives me 
safe conduct, and it is to her interest that she should 
not play us false. Now will I summon my men, 
and tell them what journey lies before us.” Pie 
lifted his bugle to his lips. 

193 


ROBIN HOOD 


As usual the merry men came running in re- 
sponse to his summons, and when he had read them 
the Queen’s letter there was a great shout of joy, 
and they began at once to get ready for their jour- 
ney to London. Garments were freshened up and 
new ones made ; swords and arrows were sharpened, 
and bows restrung. Robin himself chose a doublet 
and hose of scarlet; but his men wore their usual 
Lincoln green. So at last, one pleasant summer 
day, they all set out for London, Robin wearing 
the Queen’s ring and carrying her letter in his 
bosom. 

Their journey to London was a long one, for 
there were no fine roads as now to make travelling 
easy. When they arrived at last, Robin sent the 
ring to the Queen, and it was not long before he 
was summoned to her presence. 

“ God save thee, fair Queen, and all thy follow- 
ing! ” he said, kneeling in knightly fashion to kiss 
her hand. 

“ Thou art welcome, Robin, with thy gallant 
yeomen,” said the Queen; “ and now I will tell thee 
why I have summoned thee hither. To-morrow, on 
St. George’s Day, the King holds an archery con- 
test on Finsbury Field ” 

The sun shone brightly on Finsbury Field, where 
the royal archery contest was to be held. It was a 
much larger field than the one at Nottingham, and 
of course, the dais on which the King and Queen sat 
194 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


was much handsomer and more beautifully deco- 
rated than the one that the Sheriff and his wife oc- 
cupied on such occasions. The King’s archers were 
grouped together near the royal seat, and another 
cluster of men in green with one in scarlet stood on 
the Queen’s side of the dais. 

“ Come hither, Tepus, my good bow-bearer,” said 
the King. “ Now measure out for me how long our 
mark shall be.” 

“ What is the wager on this shooting? ” asked 
the Queen, as Tepus obediently took the line and 
began to measure the distance for the targets. 

“ Three hundred tuns of Rhenish wine and the 
same of beer,” answered the King. “ Three hun- 
dred of the fattest harts that run on Dallom Lea 
I add also to this princely wager ; but I can afford 
to be generous, for I have no doubt that my archers 
will win for me.” 

Then spoke another of the King’s archers, Clif- 
ton by name. 

“ Measure no mark at all for us, most sovereign 
liege,” he said. “ Let us shoot at sun and moon! ” 

The King smiled, well pleased at these brave 
words. 

“ Nay,” said Tepus scornfully in reply to Clif- 
ton, for the two were rivals. “ ’Twill be sufficient 
to use fifteen score for our distance instead of 
shooting at sun and moon! ” 

“ I’ll lay my bow then,” cried Clifton boastfully, 
“ that I’ll cleave the willow wand! ” 

195 


ROBIN HOOD 


Then the shooting began, and it was good shoot- 
ing indeed that was done by the King’s archers. 
The King smiled proudly at their feats, and when 
at last all had taken a turn, he looked at the Queen. 

“ Is the wager mine without more ado, after this 
noble shooting, my Queen? ” he said. 

The Queen rose and fell on her knees before him. 

“A boon!” she cried. “A boon, my liege! 
Thou didst promise me when thou didst plan this 
contest that I might select for myself against thine 
archers men from out all England. So have I done, 
and they await their turn to try their skill.” 

The King somewhat frowningly looked at the 
little group of men in green surrounding their scar- 
let-clad leader. 

“ Be it so,” he said at length rather ungra- 
ciously. “ Natheless I know that having chosen the 
best out of all England the wager will yet go to my 
archers.” 

“ That is to be proved,” answered the Queen 
gently; and with the words she went back to her 
place. “Ah! ” she cried, looking around her at the 
courtiers on the dais. “ Now who will be on my 
side? Sir Richard of the Lea, thou full good 
knight, thou wilt be of my party, I know. And the 
Bishop of Hereford ” 

“ Nay,” answered the Bishop hastily, for he had 
recognized the man in scarlet. “ I am sorry, Your 
Majesty, but I will not bet one penny on yon men 
of thine ” 


196 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ What wilt thou bet against us, my Lord 
Bishop ?” asked the man in scarlet, speaking for 
the first time. 

“ By my silver mitre,” said the Bishop, “ I will 
wager all the money in my purse, and that is fifteen 
score nobles, nearly a hundred pounds.” 

Then the man in scarlet and his followers in green 
began to shoot on the Queen’s side. 

Robin Hood himself began. Clifton had carried 
out his boast, and had cleft the willow wand. His 
arrow was still quivering where he had left it in his 
noble shot. Robin aimed with his usual apparent 
carelessness, and cleft Clifton’s arrow. A mighty 
shout of admiration went up from those who looked 
on. 

Then Nick Much did not much worse than his 
master, for his arrow came within a finger’s length 
of the wand. Will Scarlet cleft the wand as deftly 
as Clifton had done. So it chanced that Robin and 
his men surpassed the King’s archers. 

“ Now, Bishop, beware thy purse! ” cried Robin, 
smiling; and then amidst the shouts of the people, 
the Queen rose and again knelt before the King. 

“ A boon! A boon! ” she cried once more. “ It 
is that you will be angry with none of these my 
archers, since the contest has been fairly carried 
on.” 

The King was ill-pleased at his defeat, but he had 
his share of royal generosity. 

“ They shall have forty days to come, and forty 

197 


ROBIN HOOD 


to go,” he replied to the Queen’s petition; “ ay, and 
three times forty to sport and play here at the court. 
Welcome are they, whether friend or foe.” 

“ Then welcome, Robin Hood! ” cried the Queen 
in a clear voice, rising and extending her hand to the 
man in scarlet. “ Welcome, too, be thou, Little 
John; and Will Scarlet and Nick Much, ye are 
both welcome also! Ye have the King’s word for 
it!” 

“ Is this indeed Robin Hood? ” said the King, 
and he looked with eager curiosity at the man of 
whom he had heard so much, but had never seen. 

“ Ay, this is Robin Hood! ” the Bishop muttered 
between his teeth. “ I remember well that INI ass 
thou didst force me to sing! ” he continued, glaring 
at Robin savagely. 

“ Nay, now, my Lord Bishop,” said Robin cour- 
teously, “ methinks thou shouldst have been glad 
to give spiritual food to those poor outlaws who 
needed it so sorely. For me, I thank thee for that 
Mass ; and for recompense, I give thee back half the 
gold that thou hast just lost on thy wager against 
us.” 

“I thank thee for no such thing!” cried the 
Bishop indignantly. “ This is a pretty pass that a 
man should be paid out of his own money! Give 
me back that gold thou didst steal from me in the 
forest! ” 

“ Nay, dear master,” quoth Little John, laying 
a restraining hand on Robin’s shoulder. “ Be not 
198 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


so free to give the Bishop back his wager. We need 
that gold for gifts to the King’s officers. ’Twill 
well serve both thee and me.” 

“ Take the Bishop’s wager, and put it in thy 
purse,” said the King courteously to Robin. “ He 
hath fairly lost, and so have I. If thou wouldst 
leave thy bold outlaws and come dwell with me, I 
would say welcome, Robin Hood; for good sooth 
thou art the flower of archery.” 

Robin shook his head. 

“ I would not leave my bold outlaws for all the 
gold in Christendom,” he said. “ I will live and die 
in merry Sherwood, if it be God’s will, and have 
my end as I had my beginning, under the great oak 
tree that I love so well. Nay, Your Majesty, we 
cannot be your archers ; but ” — and turning to the 
Queen, he bent over the hand that she held out to 
him, and kissed it — “ but when Her Grace lifts but 
her little finger, I shall be ever at her command! ” 


199 



XVIII 


ROBIN’S MERRY CHASE 


And when the game it ended was, 

Bold Robin won it with a grace , 

But after the King was angry with him, 
And vowedi he would him chase. 


XVIII 


ROBIN’S MERRY CHASE 

Despite the royal graciousness with which the 
King had treated Robin Hood, His Majesty suf- 
fered a reaction from his high and generous mood 
after the outlaw and his men had departed. The 
King had always prided himself on his archers and 
their skill, and when he had time to reflect upon the 
matter, it seemed an almost ludicrous thing that 
Robin Hood and his men should outwit the royal 
archers. The more the King thought about it, the 
angrier he became; and so at last he decided to go 
himself to see what he could do in person, since the 
Sheriff was apparently helpless. So one fine day 
the King and all his train appeared in Nottingham, 
and put the whole town in a flutter of excitement. 

The morning after his arrival the King called 
together all the important men of the town with the 
Sheriff at their head, and said with a frown: 

“ Come now, let me see who can find me bold 
Robin Hood! ” 

“ May it please Your Majesty,” quoth the Sher- 
iff, “ Robin Hood is in the forest.” 

“ How is it then,” said the King, “ that he con- 
203 


ROBIN HOOD 


tinues to elude capture? Here be ye, good men 
and true. How is it ye let this man escape justice 
so long? ” 

The men of Nottingham sighed deeply, but made 
no reply. 

“ He must be captured! ” quoth the King, bring- 
ing down the royal fist with a mighty bang on the 
table by which he sat. “ Go about it forthwith, 
prithee.” 

Then the citizens of Nottingham looked glum in- 
deed, but there was no disputing the royal com- 
mand; so they left the King’s presence, shaking 
their heads and murmuring sadly among them- 
selves. 

Somehow, in some way, word of this conference 
was brought to Robin where he sat under the oak 
tree with Little John. When the two merry men 
heard of the King’s command, I regret to say that 
first of all they roared with laughter. 

“ ’Tis time to be gone, master, and seek some 
other place,” said Little J ohn, wiping the tears of 
merriment from his eyes. “ Now where shall we 
go this time to escape our dear Sheriff? ” 

“ Suppose we try Yorkshire,” said Robin, look- 
ing like anything but a man under the King’s dis- 
pleasure, as he sat beneath the oak tree, leisurely 
stringing his bow. “ Ay, Yorkshire let it be! We 
have been in Sherwood overlong, methinks, and 
travel is good for a man. We will to Yorkshire! ” 
and with that he lifted his horn to his lips and blew 
204 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


three blasts to summon his merry men and tell them 
of the jaunt that lay before them. 

Doubtless it would have infuriated both the Sher- 
iff and the King to see how lightly the outlaws of 
Sherwood received the news of the chase that His 
Majesty was beginning against them. When they 
heard of it the forest rang with their merriment. 

“ So we are to hie us to Yorkshire!” observed 
Friar Tuck. “ Well, I have never travelled much 
and I shall be pleased if we go even farther than 
Yorkshire.” 

“ Mayhap we shall,” said Robin. “ I wonder 
whether the Queen’s gracious Majesty knoweth of 
this plot against us. I cannot think it, so sweet 
and kind was she to us in London.” 

Then was there a great hurry and scurry in 
Sherwood as the men made ready for their journey. 
Maid Marian and Fair Ellen both dressed in boy’s 
attire since it was safer for travelling. The same 
day that word had been brought to Robin of the 
King’s intentions against him he and his merry men 
hied them away from the greenwood. 

When the King and his followers with the Sheriff 
and his men arrived in the forest, there was no trace 
of the outlaws save the scattered embers of a great 
fire, and the dismantled ruins of Marian’s bower. 
The caves in which most of the outlaws dwelt were 
so cunningly hidden by clustering vines that the 
men from Nottingham did not discover them at all. 
This was well for Robin and his followers, for in 
205 


ROBIN HOOD 


these places most of the treasures of the band were 
hidden. 

Scarcely had they returned to Nottingham when 
word was brought to the King whither Robin and 
his men had gone. So with a great noise and bustle, 
into Yorkshire the King went, only to learn that 
the outlaws had gone to Newcastle. Thither, too, 
went the King, breathing forth threatenings and 
vengeance, only to hear that after staying for two 
or three hours in Newcastle, Robin had gone to Ber- 
wick. 

Then was the King sorely vexed; and if he had 
succeeded in laying hands on Robin, the outlaw 
would have fared ill indeed. 

“ I shall follow this saucy fellow,” roared the 
King, “ and ne’er give o’er until I have taken him.” 

Meanwhile, Robin and his men were in high glee 
at the way they were leading their pursuers so 
merry a chase. 

“ Come now, let’s away!” cried Little John. 
“ Let any man follow that dare! We’ll go to Car- 
lisle and then to Lancaster.” 

So they did, the King following, and then to 
Chester. Here Robin was seized with a brilliant 
idea. 

“ Come,” he said, “ let us go to London to see 
our noble Queen. It may be that she wants our 
company, and the King is jealous of us, and that is 
why he chases us so sore.” 

So on a day it chanced that Robin came once 
206 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


more to London, and sought the Queen as she sat 
alone in her palace. When he reached the royal 
presence, he fell on his knees before her. 

“ If it please Your Grace,” quoth he, right im- 
pudently it must be confessed, “ I am come here to 
speak with the King.” 

The Queen looked at the goodly man kneeling 
before her in his suit of Lincoln green that so well 
became him, and she said: 

“ The King has gone to Sherwood, Robin, and 
when he went he said to me that he had gone to seek 
thee.” 

“ Then farewell, my gracious Queen,” quoth 
Robin with a twinkle in his eyes; “ I will hie me 
apace to Sherwood, for fain would I see what he 
desires of me if I could but meet with His Maj- 
esty.” 

Without more ado, he departed from London, 
and it chanced that the same day the King came 
home again, very weary and much vexed in mind. 
When the Queen told him that Robin had been at 
the court, he gnashed his teeth and cursed his for- 
tune. 

“ You are welcome home, my sovereign liege,” 
said the Queen. “ Bold Robin Hood, that good 
archer, hath been here to seek you.” 

“ He’s a cunning knave,” said the King between 
his teeth. “ I have sought him these three weeks, 
and all in vain.” 

The Queen was silent for a moment. Robin had 
207 


ROBIN HOOD 


been a good friend to her on more than one occa- 
sion, but it took courage to do what she had in mind 
in the King’s present angry mood. At length, 
however, she rose, and bent her knee to her 
husband. 

“ A boon, a boon, Your Grace! ” she cried. “ It 
was through me he came to London first. Prithee 
pardon his life, and let there be no more turmoil 
regarding him.” 

The King sighed, but he was very weary from his 
merry chase of Robin Hood and his men. 

“So be it!” he said graciously, and his brow 
cleared as he spoke, for he realized that the Queen 
was making it much easier for him than if he had 
had to confess that he had failed in his best efforts 
to capture Robin. “ For your sake, my Queen ” 

If the Queen smiled to herself at his words as she 
bent to kiss his hand, no one was the wiser. 


208 


HOW ROBIN WON THE FORESTERS 


And as they walked the forest along, 
Upon a midsummer day, 

There were they aware of three keepers, 
Clad all in green array . 


XIX 


HOW ROBIN WON THE FORESTERS 

The sun had melted the icicles of winter, and 
likewise the mountains of snow, and once more 
Robin Hood and his men could frolic abroad. One 
day Robin and Will Scarlet and Little John went 
walking along to see some pastime; and as they 
walked they were aware of three of the King’s keep- 
ers, all clad in green with long swords by their sides, 
coming towards them. It was the business of the 
King’s keepers to guard the King’s deer; and when 
they saw the three outlaws they called on them 
boldly to stand. 

“ Whither away so fast, friends? ” they cried. 

“ We are going,” quoth Robin, “ to kill a fat 
buck for me and all my merry men. Besides, ere 
we depart, we shall have a fat doe also.” 

“ You’d best have a care,” said one of the other 
group threateningly. 

“ Why, who are you that speak so boldly here? ” 
cried Robin. 

“ We belong to the King,” answered one of the 
men, “ and we are keepers of his deer. Before you 
shoot, we shall forbid it.” 

“ Nay, I am sure that is not so,” responded Robin 
solemnly. “ These many long summers have we 
211 


ROBIN HOOD 


let fly our arrows here where freely we range. Why 
then should you have more power than have we? 
This forest I think is mine and so are the nimble 
deer. I swear we’ll not be cowed by you. We 
three and not you are keepers of this forest, and 
now ye shall know it. Lay down your coats of 
green on the ground, and so will we, all three of us ; 
then take your swords and bucklers, and we’ll try 
who shall win the victory.” 

“We be content,” answered one of the keepers. 
“ We be three, and so be you, no less. Why should 
we be afraid of you since we have done no wrong? ” 

“ Why, if you be three keepers in this forest,” an- 
swered Robin, “we be three rangers; and we’ll 
make vou know shortly you have met with Robin 
Hood.” 

“We be content, thou bold outlaw,” answered 
another of the keepers, “ to try our valor. We will 
make you know we will fight before we will fly. 
Then draw your swords and stand there prating no 
longer. Let us try it out with blows, for we hate 
all cowards. One of us will fight Will Scarlet, and 
another, Little John. I myself am for you, Robin, 
because you are so stout and strong.” 

“Well said!” said Robin cheerily; and Little 
John and Will Scarlet echoed his words, for they 
all loved gallant foes. Then without more ado, they 
fell to it full hard and sore. The very first blow 
that Robin received from his forester, the fellow’s 
broad weapon cried twang, and Robin fell down 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


from the mighty whack as if he were dead. Pres- 
ently, however, he recovered himself and bravely 
fell to it again. 

From eight o’clock in the morning until past two 
they bore themselves right gallantly. By that time 
Robin and Will and Little John were thoroughly 
winded. Robin cried out pantingly: 

“ O hold, O hold, I see you be stout men! Let 
me blow one blast on my bugle ere I fight further 
with you.” 

“ Nay,” said one of the foresters, all of whom 
seemed as fresh as when the combat had begun. 
“ Thy bugle blast was not in the bargain, and we 
deny it thee. Think not, natheless, that a blast on 
thy bugle can make us either fight or flee. Fall to 
once more, or else be gone, and yield us the day. 
It shall never be said that we were afraid of thee 
nor of thy gay yeomen.” 

“ If that be so,” cried Robin, “ let me but know 
your names, and in Sherwood Forest they shall be 
extolled.” 

“ What hast thou to do with our names?” said 
another of the foresters scornfully. “ Except 
ye will all fight it out, thou shalt not know our 
names.” 

“ We will fight no more,” said Robin in a decisive 
tone. “Ye be men of stout valor. It is enough. 
Ever after we shall be brethren, for I love with 
heart and hand those men who will fight and never 
flee. Thou art fit to be yeomen for me, and range 
213 


ROBIN HOOD 


in the merry greenwood. Come, I’ll give you each a 
ring in token of love, for you’ve acted your parts 
right bravely. Now will I summon the rest of my 
men to welcome you.” 

With that he set his horn to his lips and blew a 
blast; and presently a hundred yeomen came run- 
ning with their trusty bows. They were gloriously 
dressed in green and were a noble sight. 

“ Lo, here are my yeomen,” quoth Robin to the 
foresters; “ and ye shall be of them. A mantle, a 
bow and a quiver shall each of you receive.” 

The foresters listened right willingly and as- 
sented to Robin’s proposal. Then they all went 
shooting together and secured a fine fat doe for 
their supper that night. 

What singing and dancing was there in the 
greenwood then for joy that three good comrades 
were added to the merry band! They spent the 
night in mirth and merriment, with much to eat and 
drink, and the foresters thought they had never in 
all their lives been so merry. Then each received 
from Robin a green mantle, and broad arrows and 
a curious long bow; and the next day he made them 
stand all in a row before him, and looked at them* 
with pride. 

“ My brave yeomen,” he said, “ be true to your 
trust while we range these wide woods! ” 

Then with one voice the King’s late foresters 
swore that they would conquer or die by the side of 
Robin Hood. 


214 


XX 

HOW ROBIN RESCUED THREE 
SQUIRES 


What news , what news , thou silly old woman. 

What news hast thou for me f 
Said she, There’s three squires in Nottingham town, 
To-day is condemned to die. 


XX 


HOW ROBIN RESCUED THREE SQUIRES 

It was in that merriest month of all, the merry 
month of May, that Robin, striding towards Not- 
tingham, saw a sight which made him pause. A 
little bent old woman, clad in humble attire, was 
seated by the roadside, weeping bitterly. 

Robin stooped over her, and gave her a comfort- 
ing pat on the shoulder. 

“ What news, dame? ” quoth he. “ What news 
hast thou to tell me? ” 

“Alack, sir ” she began, raising her head; 

then when she saw who it was that stood beside her, 
she looked much happier. “ Ah ! ” she cried. “ ’Tis 
the poor man’s friend, Robin Hood.” 

“ I thank thee for that title, good dame,” Robin 
answered gravely. “ Now tell me whether there is 
any way in which I may further deserve it.” 

“ Perchance,” she said, looking up at him with 
tear-filled eyes, her hands wringing themselves to- 
gether the while. “ Perchance thou canst help those 
poor souls who are condemned to die this day in 
Nottingham.” 

Robin stood a moment in deep thought. 

“ I will indeed do my best to aid them if they are 
unjustly condemned,” he said at last. “ Tell me, 
217 


ROBIN HOOD 


dame, what is their crime? Have they burnt 
parishes or slain priests, or led evil lives? ” 

“ Nay, nay, none of these things! ” cried the old 
woman shaking her head with emphasis. “ They 
have borne long bows for thee, and have slain the 
King’s deer.” 

“ What! Three of mine own men in danger! ” 
cried Robin, instinctively clapping his hand on his 
sword. “ Old woman, why didst thou not say at 
once who they are? By the truth of my body, they 
shall be rescued, and that speedily.” 

He left the old woman where she sat by the way- 
side, and ran fleetly on towards Nottingham, form- 
ing a plan in his mind as he went. He could not 
enter Nottingham dressed as he was in his own 
forest garb of green. If he did so, it would be only 
to court capture, and if he were taken he could 
neither rescue his three men nor help himself. He 
must have a disguise; and as he neared the town, 
he walked more slowly, scanning the passers-by as 
he went. 

Just as he entered the town, he saw a ragged 
palmer. 

“ What news? ” Robin called out to him cheer- 
iIy- 

“ Three squires are condemned to die in Notting- 
ham to-day,” replied the palmer sorrowfully. 

“ And wouldst like to help to save these gallant 
men? ” asked Robin in a low voice, standing close 
beside him. 


218 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


The palmer stared in astonishment, but answered 
readily, “ Ay.” 

“ Come change thy apparel with me then,” said 
Robin; “and I will give thee this good suit and 
cloak of mine, and forty shillings in silver here in 
my purse beside.” 

The palmer stared at him with open mouth. 

“ Thou canst not be in earnest,” he said at last. 
“ Thine apparel is good, and mine is ragged and 
bare. Shame on thee! Wherever thou dost go, 
wherever thou dost ride, laugh not an old man to 
scorn! ” 

“ Nay, I jest not,” said Robin, glancing about 
him apprehensively. “ Bandy no further words 
with me, old man, but come change thy apparel with 
me. Here are twenty pieces of good broad gold. 
Go feast thy brethren with wine.” 

The sight of the gold made the palmer’s eyes 
glisten. He made no further objections to the ex- 
change, and it was speedily effected. Robin put on 
the old man’s hat, which stood very high in the 
crown ; his cloak, patched with black, blue and red ; 
next his breeches, also much patched; and finally 
his hose, which were one mass of patches. 

“ By the truth of my body,” said Robin, chuck- 
ling as he surveyed himself, “ I’d laugh if I had 
my desire! ” 

Then he put on the palmer’s shoes, also patched 
both above and below; and it is doubtful if Robin’s 
own mother would have known the identity of the 
219 


ROBIN HOOD 


ragged, dirty figure that shuffled on through the 
streets of Nottingham. He went along, no one 
recognizing him, until he met the Sheriff, hurrying 
as fast as he could go. 

“ O God save you, Master Sheriff! ” said Robin, 
in a high, tremulous voice. “ What will you give a 
silly old man to be your hangman to-day? ” 

The Sheriff looked at him with condescension, 
not guessing for a moment that it was Robin Hood 
who stood before him. 

“ Some suits I’ll give thee,” he said. “ Good 
sooth, thou dost need them badly enough, methinks. 
Ay, I will give some suits and thirteen pence to-day 
as a hangman’s fee.” 

‘‘It is well!” quoth Robin; and turning away, 
he hobbled along so rapidly that the Sheriff looked 
after him in astonishment. 

“ By the truth of my body,” quoth the Sheriff, 
puffing after him as fast as his bulky body would 
allow, “ that’s well jumped, thou nimble old man! ” 

At length they reached the place of execution, 
and Robin and the Sheriff stood side by side. 

Suddenly Robin spoke out loudly in his own 
voice. 

“ I was never a hangman in all my life,” he said, 
“ nor do I intend to be. Curst be he, say I, who was 
first made a hangman! Listen, Sheriff,” he went 
on, turning to the latter, who stood staring at him 
almost petrified with astonishment, “ I’ve bags here, 
seest thou,” and he fingered them over rapidly, “ a 
220 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


bag for meal and a bag for malt, and a bag for bar- 
ley and corn, a bag for bread and a bag for beef, 
and one, ,, he held it up lovingly, “ one for my little 
bugle. ’Tis a horn I got from Robin Hood, and for 
thee it blows little good, Sheriff. Shall I wind it? ” 

The Sheriff looked at him angry and apprehen- 
sive. He did not yet recognize Robin, but he felt 
that danger of some sort was brewing. 

“ O thou proud fellow, wind thy horn! ” he an- 
swered defiantly. “ Wind thy horn, and let happen 
what may! I wish that thou wouldst blow such a 
blast that both thine eyes fall out! ” 

Robin laughed lightly at this pleasant wish, and 
set his bugle to his lips. At the first blast, a hun- 
dred and fifty of his men came riding furiously over 
the hill towards Nottingham. He blew the second 
time, and sixty more came running over the plain. 

“ Now who are you,” cried the Sheriff, fairly 
foaming with rage, “ who are you that come trip- 
ping over the lea? ” 

“ They are my attendants, come to pay thee a 
visit, Sheriff! ” quoth Robin, smiling, as he took off 
his hood and showed his face to the Sheriff. “ Take 
the gallows, my men, and set it over yonder.” 

No sooner said than done. Some score of the 
merry men took down the gallows much more 
quickly than it had gone up, and set it over in a 
glen not far from the place of execution. 

The Sheriff saw he was at Robin’s mercy, and 
he abjectly held up his hands. 

221 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Ask, good Robin, and thou shalt receive,” he 
said imploringly, “ whether it be house or land.” 

“ Nay,” quoth Robin, “ I will have neither house 
nor land. I wish neither gold nor fee. I will have 
these squires to go with me back to the greenwood.” 

“ Marry now, God forbid that this should be! ” 
said the Sheriff. “ They are the King’s felons, 
condemned to die.” 

“ Grant me my asking,” said Robin sternly, “ or 
by the faith of my body, thou shalt be the first man 
that shall flower on yonder gallows tree ! ” 

The Sheriff looked at the long lines of Robin’s 
men, and knew that he was helpless. Silent, but 
with a face like thunder, he watched the outlaws 
cut the bonds of the three squires, and set them on 
horses, each in front of a comrade. Then Robin, 
all in the palmer’s rags as he was, gayly mounted 
a horse that Little J ohn had brought for him, and 
rode away at the head of his men to Sherwood. 


222 


XXI 

HOW GAMBLE GOLD CAME TO 
SHERWOOD 


1 am Gamble Gold of the gay green woods , 
And travelled far beyond the sea; 

For killing a man in my father’s land, 
From my country I was forced to flee. 


XXI 


HOW GAMBLE GOLD CAME TO SHERWOOD 

There chanced to be a Pedlar bold who rolled 
his pack on his shoulder and came tripping down 
the lea towards Sherwood Forest. On the way he 
met two troublesome blades whose names he did not 
know; but they were Robin Hood and Little John. 

“ O Pedlar, Pedlar, what is in thy pack? ” Little 
John inquired with a great show of interest. 
“ Come speedily and tell me.” 

“ I’ve several suits of gay green silk,” the Pedlar 
replied rather sulkily; “ and two or three silver bow- 
strings, if ye must know.” 

“Nay, then,” cried Little John, “if thou hast 
several suits of gay green silk and two or three 
silver bowstrings, then by my body one-half of thy 
pack shall belong to me.” 

“ O nay, O nay,” began the Pedlar defensively, 
backing away from the two tall yeomen as he spoke. 
“ That never can be. There is no man from fair 
Nottingham who can take one-half of my pack.” 

With that he pulled off his pack and put it a little 
below his knee. 

“ If ye move me one perch from this,” he said, 
“ my pack and all shall go with you.” 

Little John drew his sword, the Pedlar still 
225 


ROBIN HOOD 


standing by his pack. Robin waited grinning. 
Then Little John and the Pedlai\ began to fight. 
Little John at first fought with small effort, ex- 
pecting an easy victory; but so well did the Pedlar 
stand his ground that at last, much to Little John's 
chagrin, he was obliged to cry, “ Pedlar, pray hold 
your hand ! ” 

At that Robin threw back his head and laughed 
heartily. 

“ I could find a man of a smaller scale, me- 
thinks,” he said, “ who could thrash the Pedlar and 
thee also." 

“ Go thou and try then, master," quoth Little 
John furiously, holding his hand meanwhile to a 
bleeding cut on his head. “ Go thou and try most 
speedily; or I am right sure thou wilt not know me 
this night." 

Then Robin drew his sword, the Pedlar still 
standing by his pack, and they fought together till 
the blood flowed in streams, and Robin in his turn 
cried, “ Pedlar, pray hold thine hand! " 

Then Robin and Little John stanched each 
other’s wounds, laughing somewhat ruefully; and 
all the while the Pedlar stood still by his pack. 

“ Pedlar,” said Robin at last, turning to him, 
“ Pedlar, what is thy name? Come speedily and 
tell me.” 

“My name!" repeated the Pedlar scornfully. 
“ My name I never will tell until ye have both told 
me your names." 


226 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Well, that is speedily done,” quoth Robin 
cheerily. “ I am Robin Hood, and this is my 
trusty man, Little John.” 

“ Now,” said the Pedlar, apparently unim- 
pressed, “ it lies within my will whether my name I 
choose to tell thee. Natheless I will do so. I am 
Gamble Gold of the gay greenwood, and I have 
travelled in many lands. Because I killed a man 
I was forced to flee.” 

Robin looked at him in great astonishment. 

“ Gamble Gold! ” he repeated. “ Nay, then, if 
thou art Gamble Gold thou art no other than my 
own cousin. Often have I heard of thee and how 
thou wert forced to flee. Sherwood must hence- 
forth be thy home.” 

Gamble Gold gave a cry of joy and sheathed his 
sword. Leaving his pack unheeded on the ground, 
he ran forward and embraced Robin right heartily. 

After that they all three went to Nottingham and 
at the inn there they ate and drank together until 
they became fast friends. 


227 






XXII 

HOW ROBIN WAS BEATEN BY THE 
BEGGAR 


And riding towards fair Nottingham, 
Some pastime for to spy, 

There was he aware of a jolly beggar 
As e’er he beheld with his eye. 


XXII 


HOW ROBIN WAS BEATEN BY THE BEGGAR 

As Robin came from Bernysdale on a fair even- 
ing, he met a beggar striding sturdily along with 
a great pikestaff in his hand. A patched cloak 
wrapped him warmly, and around his neck hung his 
meal-bag, held by a leathern strap with a strong, 
broad buckle. He had three hats on his head, one 
inside the other, and he looked, as he strode 
along, as if he cared nothing for either wind or 
weather. 

Robin accosted him courteously. 

“ Tarry, my friend,” he said, “ tarry and speak 
with me.” 

The Beggar paid no attention to him whatever. 

“Nay, then, thou must tarry!” said Robin 
firmly, greatly irritated by the Beggar’s lack of 
manners ; and he put out a detaining hand. 

“ By my troth,” said the Beggar impudently, “ I 
have no will to tarry. It is far to my lodging- 
house, and it is growing late. I shall look a fool 
indeed if they have finished supper ere I come in.” 

“ Now by my troth,” said Robin in his turn, 
“ thou thinkest much of thy supper, but little of 
mine. I want my dinner all day long, and know 
not where to lie. Should I go to the tavern, I shall 
231 


ROBIN HOOD 


need money. Give me, prithee, or lend me, some 
until we two meet again.” 

“ I have no money either to give or to lend,” an- 
swered the Beggar in a crabbed voice. “ Thou art 
as young a man as I am, and seemest as reluctant 
to part with money. If thou fast until thou gettest 
alms from me, thou shalt eat none all this year.” 

Robin was perfectly furious by this time. 

“ If thou have but a small farthing about thee,” 
he said between his teeth, “ I’ll have it ere thou go. 
Lay down thy clouted cloak, therefore, and loose 
the strings of all thy bags or I’ll rip them with my 
hand. I make vow to thee that if thou dost make a 
noise, I’ll see whether a broad arrow can pierce a 
beggar’s skin.” 

The Beggar smiled tauntingly and answered: 

“ Far better let me be! ” There was a hint of 
menace in his manner. “ Think not I fear thy little 
crooked staff! Faith, ’tis about fit for a pudding- 
stick, no more! I defy thee to do me ill for all thy 
boisterous threats; but thou’lt get nothing from me 
but ill shouldst thou seek it forever ! ” 

For answer, Robin bent his bow, and set in it a 
broad arrow. He was crimson with rage. Before 
he could shoot, however, the Beggar fetched him so 
round a blow with his great staff that bow and ar- 
row alike flew to the winds in splintered fragments. 
Then Robin drew his sword, but that likewise 
proved vain, for the Beggar fetched him a blow on 
his right hand that rendered him helpless. 

232 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


Robin’s heart was sore within him. His hand, 
now entirely useless, hung at his side. He could 
neither fight nor flee, and for a moment he found 
himself speechless. The Beggar laughed in mock- 
ery, and in most unsportsmanlike fashion, since it is 
always contemptible to strike a foe who cannot de- 
fend himself, began to cudgel the crippled Robin 
right lustily. At last, weak and helpless from the 
hailing blows, the outlaw fell in a swoon. 

“ Fie! ” quoth the Beggar tauntingly. “ Stand 
up, man ! ’Tis a shame to go to bed so early ! Stay 
till thou dost get the alms thou didst ask me for! 
Then take it to the tavern, and buy wine and ale, 
and make merry with thy friends ! ” 

But poor Robin’s ears were deaf now to his 
taunts. He lay as still as any stone, his cheeks, 
white, his eyes closed. The Beggar grew a little 
frightened at last, thinking that perhaps he was 
dead ; so the vagabond took to his heels and fled. 

Scarcely was he out of sight when three of 
Robin’s merry men happened to stroll that way; 
Will Stutely, David Doncaster, and Gilbert of the 
White Hand. Great was their amazement and 
horror to find their master lying on the ground, 
apparently either dead or near to death. In much 
alarm and with many lamentations, they raised him, 
and strove to recover him, wondering who or what 
had brought him to this state. They saw no foe in 
sight, and no wounds, only bruises. At length, 
after repeated dashes of cold water in his face, 
233 


ROBIN HOOD 


Robin began to revive. He opened his eyes, and 
spoke faintly. 

“ Welcome, dear comrades! ” he said falteringly. 

“ Tell us, dear master, how it stands with you! ” 
cried Will Stutely, tears of relief in his eyes to hear 
Robin’s voice again. 

Robin gave a heavy sigh, and spoke sluggishly 
because of his weakness. 

“ Never have I been so hard bested in all the 
years I have lived in Sherwood! ” he groaned. “A 
beggar with a patched cloak it was who hath so 
mauled me! He goes o’er yon hill with his hat 
upon his head. If e’er ye loved me, avenge this 
deed. Bring him back to me that I may see him 
punished ere I die ! ” And Robin groaned again ; 
for he felt very weak and ill, and as if he were in- 
deed near death. 

“ That will we do, master! ” quoth Gilbert of the 
White Hand. “ One of us will remain with thee, 
and care for thee, since thou art so ill at ease. The 
other two will bring him back for thee to use as it 
pleaseth thee best. Come, David, we will go, and 
let honest Will remain with our master.” 

So it was settled, and Gilbert and David started 
off together. 

“ Now by my troth,” Robin called after them 
faintly, “ if he get room to wield his staff, I fear 
me he’ll be too much for ye both.” 

“Never fear, our good master!” they answered 
cheerily. “ His staff shall stand him in no stead 
234 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


against two of us, as thou shalt see. We shall bring 
him back to thee bound, that thou mayst either slay 
him with a sword, or hang him on a tree, as thou 
wilt.” 

“ Capture him by strategy then,” said Robin, 
“ and lay hands first on his pikestaff.” 

Then he sank back into Will Stutely’s arms, and 
his eyes closed again from very weakness. 

Meanwhile the two outlaws strode briskly along. 
They knew the country well, and they calculated 
shrewdly in what direction the Beggar would 
probably go; with such success that shortly after 
they had left Will and Robin they came upon 
him walking along the highway near a little 
wood. 

They stood each by a tree, and as he attempted to 
pass them, they leaped upon him. David grasped 
his staff, and Gilbert held a drawn dagger threaten- 
ingly against his heart. 

“ False churl, give up thy staff,” quoth David, 
“ or I shall forthwith be thy priest! ” 

The Beggar with a grunt of anger perforce was 
obliged to yield. They took his staff from him and 
stuck it upright in the moss near by, at the foot of 
one of the trees. 

The Beggar, like all bullies, was very much 
afraid when he found himself in their power. He 
could not use his staff, he did not know why they 
had taken him prisoner, nor how many more stout 
yeomen might be hidden among the trees. He 
235 


ROBIN HOOD 


thought death was staring him in the face; and so he 
began to whine. 

“ Grant me my life,” he whimpered, “ and take 
away that ugly knife, good master, I pray you! 
Why have ye seized me thus? I never harmed you 
in all my life! Ye are great sinners if ye do kill a 
poor silly old beggar! ” 

“ Thou liest, false loon,” said Gilbert sternly, 
“ thou liest when thou dost say that thou hast never 
harmed us ! Thou hast nearly slain our master, the 
gentlest man that ever was born ! ” 

“And back again thou shalt be led to him,” added 
David sternly, “ that he may do with thee as he will. 
Bound thou shalt go, and at his mercy. Whether 
he will slay thee by sword or hang thee, I know 
not.” 

Then was the Beggar horribly frightened indeed, 
and his teeth chattered in his head. 

“ If I were but out of their hands,” he thought 
savagely, casting wishful eyes at the good staff but 
a short distance away, “if I had my stout tree 

again ” And then he bethought him of a trick 

that he might play on the young men whereby he 
might regain his weapon. 

“ Brave gentlemen,” he whined, “ be good, and 
let the poor man be! What shall it profit you to 
take a beggar’s blood? If your master hath come 
to harm, it was but in mine own defense. I will 
make recompense much better for both of you. If 
you will let me go, I will give you one hundred 
236 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


pounds, and much more good silver that I have here 
under this patched cloak of mine. ’Tis in the bot- 
tom of my bag.” 

The young men looked at each other doubtfully. 

“ One hundred pounds and more! ’Twould be a 
goodly sum to add to our treasury,” quoth David. 

“ He cannot escape us. If he tried, we could 
either of us easily outstrip him,” said Gilbert. 
“ Let us take his offer.” 

“ False churl,” said David, addressing the Beg- 
gar, “ have done thy whining, and tell forth thy 
money. For the ill turn thou hast done our master, 
’tis but a trifling price to pay. If thou wilt give us 
the sum thou dost speak of, we will let thee go.” 

“ So be it, good masters ! ” quoth the Beggar 
snuffling. Then with a great show of reluctance, 
and heaving many a sigh, he spread his patched 
cloak on the ground, and laid out his bags upon it. 
He was careful to place his cloak so that it was be- 
tween them and the wind. Then he laid a bag of 
meal on his cloak, and with a sudden dexterous turn 
of his wrist, he opened the bag, seized a double 
handful of the meal, and flung it straight into the 
faces of the two young men. 

While they stood blinded and coughing and 
spluttering, he grabbed his staff, and with a derisive 
laugh began to belabor them as he had belabored 
their master. They were perforce obliged to run, 
stumbling along, and trying savagely to clear their 
faces of the meal. 


237 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Why this haste? ” said the Beggar tauntingly, 
drubbing them soundly the while. “ Will ye not 
tarry until I pay ye the money? Ye must see it, 
that I do not cheat you! If in shaking my bag, 
some of my meal hath gotten into your eyes, I hum- 
bly crave your pardon! Let me wipe them clean 
with my good pikestaff! ” And with that, fearing 
that they might indeed get their faces cleared before 
he made good his escape, the Beggar gave them one 
parting wallop, and ran away right lustily through 
the thick woods. 

It was an abashed pair enough th&t came slowly 
walking back to Robin where he awaited them with 
Will Stutely. 

“ How have ye sped? ” quoth Robin eagerly, but 
with a twinkle in his eyes, for their woebegone ap- 
pearance told its own tale. 

“ Full ill! ” they answered dolefully. 

“ That surely cannot be! ” said Robin solemnly. 
Then he looked them up and down and laughed, 
albeit somewhat weakly, for his bruises were still 
very sore. “ Have ye been at the mill? ” he asked ; 
for they were yet well covered with the telltale flour. 
“ Your clothes look as if ye had been helping your- 
selves to the miller’s store.” 

With drooping heads they made a clean breast of 
the whole story; for they were dreadfully ashamed 
of themselves to have been so outwitted bv the ras- 
cally Beggar. When they had finished, Will Stute- 
ly’s broad shoulders were shaking with mirth, and 
238 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


even Robin, faint and ill as he still felt, was smiling 
uncontrollably. 

“ Yonder is a terrible beggar indeed! ” he said. 
“ Fie for shame! ” and he heaved a long sigh. “ I 
fear me we are disgraced forevermore ! ” he mur- 
mured sadly. 

David and Gilbert also fetched long sighs, and 
they looked so ridiculous with their mealy faces and 
their sad expressions A that Will and Robin began to 
chuckle again. At last, rather sheepishly, David 
and Gilbert joined in their laughter, and so after a 
little, the greenwood rang to the sound of their 
mirth. 

“ Out, alas ! ” cried Robin with a grimace, clutch- 
ing at his side. “ I feel still the remembrance of 
that vile fellow’s blows, and shall for many moons. 
Come, David; come, Gilbert, let us back to our 
comrades ! ” He laid a kindly hand on each man’s 
broad shoulder. “ I would fain have been avenged,” 
he added; “ but methinks the sight of your stripes 
make mine far easier to bear! ” 


239 


I 




XXIII 


HOW THE JOLLY PINDER CAME TO 
THE GREENWOOD 


He leaned his hack fast unto a thorn, 
And his foot unto a stone. 

And there he fought a long summer ’ s 
A summer’s day so long. 


XXIII 


HOW THE JOLLY PINDER CAME TO THE 
GREENWOOD 

It happened on a day that Robin and Will 
Scarlet and Little John were walking near Wake- 
field, when they saw a Pinder sitting under a thorn 
bush. As they approached him more nearly they 
heard him talking to himself. 

“ There is neither knight nor squire, nay, nor bold 
baron dare trespass in the town of Wakefield but 
his pledge goes to the pinfold.” 

You must know that a pinfold was what we 
call to-day a pound, in which stray animals were 
kept after their capture, and a Pinder was a man 
who had charge of a pound. 

Robin and Little John and Will Scarlet looked 
at one another when they heard the Pinder give 
voice to this large speech, and forthwith they turned 
aside from the highway and began to run across the 
corn field. 

“ Come back, come back, ye naughty men! ” bel- 
lowed the Pinder. “ Ye have forsaken the King’s 
highway ! What right have ye to make a path over 
the corn? ” 

The three outlaws paused, and turning with one 
accord, surveyed the Pinder narrowly. 

“ O that were great shame for us,” quoth Robin, 
243 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ to heed thy word since we are three and thou but 
one ! ” 

The Pinder turned red with anger, for Robin’s 
tone had been purposely insolent. 

“Come and see!” he bellowed. “Come and 
see! ” And with that he gave a mighty leap back- 
ward of thirty feet and more, and stood leaning 
against the thorn. 

“ Come, cowards ! ” he cried. “ I will show ye 
what one honest Pinder can do against three 
rogues.” 

“Needs must!” quoth Robin cheerfully; “but 
we’ll try thee one at a time. Who’ll go first? Thou, 
Will Scarlet!” 

“ Ay,” drawled Will lazily, and stepping back on 
the highroad, drew his sword, and began to fight 
the Pinder. 

He found it, however, not so easy a task as he had 
expected. The Pinder stood, his back against the 
thorn, his foot against a stone and fought grimly 
and determinedly until Will was at last obliged to 
cry “Halt!” Much chagrined, he retired; and 
Little John swaggered up confidently to take his 
place. Even he was worsted, however, although 
with greater difficulty, and it was nearing the end 
of the afternoon when Robin himself at last began 
to fight. He found to his amazement that greatly 
tired as the Pinder was by this time, he was able 
nevertheless to put up a gallant showing. 

“ Hold thy hand, hold thy hand! ” Robin cried at 
244 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


last. “ Thou art one of the best Pinders that ever 
I’ve tried with sword. Tell me, wilt thou forsake 
thy Pinder his craft and live in the greenwood with 
me?” 

The Pinder looked at Robin reflectively. He 
was in a very good humor by this time, as well he 
might be after having conquered three such goodly 
men. 

“At Michaelmas next my covenant comes out,” 
he answered. “ I can then leave my work here, and 
take my blue blade in my hand, and plod to the 
greenwood with thee.” 

“ Well said! ” quoth Robin. “And now tell me, 
jolly Pinder, hast any meat and drink for my merry 
men and me? ” 

“ I have bread and beef,” answered the Pinder; 
“ and good ale and cheese.” 

“ And that is good enough for such unbidden 
guests as we be,” quoth Robin courteously. 
“ Gladly will we eat and drink with thee, Pinder, 
and when thou art my man and shalt come and 
dwell with me, thy clothing shall be changed twice a 
year.” 

“ I will come,” answered the Pinder. Then he 
took them all three to his house, and they ate and 
drank very happily together, for so good foemen 
can always do when their fight is over. 

The Pinder kept his word. At Michaelmas he 
came to the greenwood, and so Robin added another 
stout follower to the merry men of Sherwood. 

245 












































/ 





XXIV 


HOW ROBIN BECAME A POTTER 


Robin went to Nottingham 
These pots for to sell; 

The potter abode with Robin’ s men; 
There he fared not ill. 


XXIV 


HOW ROBIN BECAME A POTTER 

In summer when the leaves spring, the blossoms 
are on every bough; and merrily sing the birds in 
the merry woods. 

As Robin stood one day among his followers, he 
saw a proud Potter wandering over the lea. His 
head was held high, and there was a conscious look 
of superiority in his aspect. 

“ Yonder comes a proud Potter,” said Robin to 
Little John, who stood nearest. “ He has long 
haunted these ways but he has never been courteous 
enough to pay a penny of tax for the privilege.” 

“I met him once before, evil may he thrive!” 
said Little John. “ He gave me such three strokes 
that I can feel them yet! ” and he rubbed his huge 
sides ruefully. “ I would lay forty shillings that 
there is not a man among us all who can defeat 
him.” 

“ Well, here is forty shillings,” quoth Robin, tak- 
ing the money out of his pouch, and jingling the 
coins together. “ I wager that I shall make this 
proud Potter lay a wager with me.” 

With that he strode across the highway, and with 
a hand upon the bridle of the Potter’s horse, 
brought it to a standstill. 

249 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Tell me what is thy will? ” quoth the Potter, 
frowning at this unexpected delay. 

“All these three years and more, Potter,” quoth 
Robin sternly, “thou hast haunted this way; yet 
hast thou never been so courteous a man as to pay 
one penny of tax for the privilege.” 

“And what is thy name,” asked the Potter inso- 
lently, “ that thou darest to ask a tax of me? ” 

“ Robin Hood is my name,” replied the outlaw 
pleasantly; “ and I am minded this day to have thee 
lay a wager with me.” 

“ Nay, that will I not! ” cried the Potter, grow- 
ing very red in the face at Robin’s calm self-assur- 
ance. “ Take thy hand away from my horse, or by 
my faith, I will punish thee sore for thy impu- 
dence ! ” 

With that he turned and rummaged in his cart, 
and presently brought forth a huge staff. With 
this in his hand, he leaped down on the ground be- 
fore Robin. 

Robin had his sword and buckler, and he still 
stood holding the Potter’s horse. 

“ Fellow, let my horse go! ” cried the Potter furi- 
ously. Then without more ado, Robin and the 
Potter began to fight, and Robin’s men stood by 
under the trees and watched them. 

“Yon Potter will stiffly stand!” quoth Little 
J ohn to his fellow; and even as he spoke, the Potter 
smote the buckler out of Robin’s hand. As he 
stooned to pick it up where it lay at his feet, the 
250 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


Potter struck him on the neck so that he fell to the 
ground. All this Robin’s men saw as they stood 
under the trees. 

“ Let us help our master! ” cried Little John in 
sudden alarm ; “ for if we do not, good sooth this 
Potter will slay him! ” 

The yeomen went with a rush to rescue their 
master. 

“ Who has won the wager, master? ” cried Little 
John. “ Shall I have thy forty shillings or shalt 
thou have mine? ” 

“ If they were a hundred,” quoth Robin ruefully, 
“ in faith they are all thine.” 

“ It is very little courtesy,” quoth the Potter 
furiously, “ sol have heard wise men say, if a poor 
yeoman come driving along, for others to prevent 
him from going forward on his journey.” 

“ By my troth, thou sayst sooth,” said Robin. 
“ So all good yeomen think; and henceforth, even if 
thou drive forth every day, thou shalt never be hin- 
dered by me. I pray thee, good Potter, wilt thou 
do something in good fellowship? Give me thy 
clothing, and thou shalt have mine in exchange. I 
would go to Nottingham.” 

“ I grant it,” replied the Potter graciously. 
“ Thou shalt find me a good fellow. If thou canst 
sell well my pots, come again as thou didst go.” 

“ Nay, by my troth,” said Robin, “ I shall de- 
serve thy curse if I bring back any pots to thee 
again. Every good wife will find them cheap.” 

251 


ROBIN HOOD 


Then spoke Little John and all his fellows : 

“ Master, be thou ware of the Sheriff at Notting- 
ham, for he is little our friend! ” 

“ Beshrew you all! ” cried Robin good-naturedly. 
“ Let me alone, fellows. Through the help of Our 
Lady ” — and he bared his head reverently — “ I will 
to Nottingham.” 

So Robin exchanged clothes with the Potter, and 
hied him forth gayly to Nottingham to sell pots. 
Meanwhile the real Potter stayed in Sherwood with 
Robin’s men. 

Robin drove on his way right merrily, and when 
he came to Nottingham he set up his horse and gave 
him oats and hay. Then he showed his wares to the 
town, crying gayly : 

“ Pots, pots! A present for whoever buys 
first ! ” 

Right against the Sheriff’s gate he showed his 
wares. Wives and widows alike began to gather 
around him and to buy. 

“Pots! Very cheap!” cried Robin; and cheap 
they were indeed; for all that saw him sell said that 
surely he had not been a potter very long. The 
pots that were worth five pence he sold for three 
pence. 

“Yonder Potter shall never thrive!” quoth the 
good men and their wives to one another; but Robin 
sold his wares very fast indeed until at last he had 
only five pots left. These he took up, and knock- 
ing on the Sheriff’s door asked to see the Sheriff’s 
252 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


wife. When she came, he presented the pots to her 
as a gift. 

The Sheriff’s wife was much flattered at this 
courtesy. 

“ Gramercy! ” said she graciously to Robin, who 
stood bowing and scraping before her. “ When ye 
come to this country again, I shall buy pots of thee, 
so may I thrive ! ” 

“ Ye shall of the best, fair dame,” said Robin 
softly. “ By the Holy Trinity I swear it ! ” 

“ Come,” she said, looking very gently upon the 
handsome Potter, “ come, dine with the Sheriff and 
me!” 

“ Your bidding shall be done,” said Robin cour- 
teously. Then a little serving maid bore away the 
pots that Robin had brought, and Robin followed 
the Sheriff’s wife into the house. 

When Robin came into the hall, he met the Sher- 
iff, and greeted him courteously. 

“ Lo, sir, see what the Potter hath given you and 
me!” quoth the Sheriff’s wife in great delight. 
“ Five pots, both great and small! I have bidden 
him to dinner for his courtesy! ” 

“ He is full welcome! ” quoth the Sheriff. “ Let 
us wash and go to table! ” 

As they sat at their meat in noble cheer, two of 
the Sheriff’s men began to speak of a great wager 
on a good shooting that had been made the other 
day. It was a wager of forty shillings. 

The pretended Potter sat very still listening to 
253 


ROBIN HOOD 


all this; but he thought within himself: “As I am a 
true Christian man I will see this shooting! ” 

When the dinner was ended, and they had fared 
on the best in bread and ale and wine, the Sheriff 
and all the company went forth to the place of 
shooting with their bows and arrows ready. 

The Sheriff’s men shot very well and proved 
themselves good archers; but they did not come 
near the mark by half the length of a good archer’s 
bow. 

Then up stood the proud Potter, and he said: 
“ If I had a bow, by the Rood, you should see one 
shot!” 

“ Thou shalt have a bow,” said the Sheriff. 
“ Thou shalt choose the best among three. Thou 
seemst a strong and stalwart fellow, and thou shalt 
have thy trial ! ” 

Then the Sheriff commanded a yeoman standing 
near by to go after some bows. Three were brought 
to Robin, and he chose the best and tested it care- 
fully. 

“ Now shall I try if thou be good! ” he muttered 
to the bow. “ Now, God me help, but thou art a 
weak affair enough ! ” 

Then from a quiverful of arrows, Robin carefully 
selected a good bolt, and when he tried the mark, he 
hit it squarely in the centre. 

Then everyone there shot all over again, the Sher- 
iff’s men and Robin, and three times Robin hit the 
prick, or centre, of the wand set up as a target. 

254 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


The Sheriff’s men thought it great shame that the 
Potter had won the mastery in the shooting; but the 
Sheriff was highly amused, and said, “ Potter, thou 
art a man! Thou art worthy to bear a bow wher- 
ever thou goest ! Knowest thou one Robin Hood? ” 
And a heavy frown came on the Sheriff’s face at the 
hated name. “ He is said to be a good marksman.” 

“Ay, I know him well,” answered Robin quietly. 
“A hundred times I have shot with him under his 
try sting tree.” 

“ I had rather than a hundred pounds,” said the 
Sheriff between his teeth, “ that the false outlaw 
stood here by me now.” 

The Potter looked at him reflectively. 

“ Is it so? ” he said slowly. “ Well, go boldly 
along with me, and to-morrow ere we eat bread, we 
shall see Robin Hood! ” 

“ If thou doest that for me,” quoth the Sheriff, 
“ I swear by the God of Might, I shall well requite 
thee.” 

So side by side, Robin and the Sheriff went back 
to the latter’s house, and supper was made ready for 
them. Then Robin spent the night with the Sher- 
iff ; and the next morning, while it was yet early, the 
Sheriff arose and began to prepare for his journey. 
The Potter got his cart ready. When they were 
about to go Robin took leave of the Sheriff’s wife 
with touching politeness. 

“ Dame, for my love,” he observed, “ I give thee 
here a gold ring.” 


255 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Gramercy! ” said the Sheriff’s wife. “God 
shield thee, sir,” and she dropped him a deep curt- 
sey for his kindness. 

Never was the Sheriff’s heart so blithe to see the 
fair forest. He sat by the Potter’s side in his little 
cart and carolled a merry song from sheer joy of 
spirit. When at last they reached the greenwood it 
was great delight to hear the merry birds singing on 
the boughs. 

“ Here it is merry to be,” quoth Robin, “ for a 
man who has aught to spend. I shall see by my 
horn whether Robin Hood be near.” 

With that he set his horn to his lips and blew a 
full good blast. His men heard the summons where 
they stood far away in the forest. 

“ I hear my master blow! ” said Little John lis- 
tening. F orthwith all the merry men ran like mad 
in the direction of the bugle sound. When they 
came to their master, they saw him still in the 
Potter’s cart, clothed in the Potter’s dress, with the 
Sheriff sitting beside him. Then all the yeomen 
roared with laughter at this goodly sight and the 
Sheriff turned very pale. Little John said: 

“ Master, how have ye fared in Nottingham? 
How have ye sold your wares? ” 

“ By my troth, Little John,” replied Robin, 
“ look thou take no care! I have brought the Sher- 
iff of Nottingham in exchange for all my wares.” 

“ He is full welcome,” said Little John gravely. 
“ This tidings is very good.” 

256 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


The Sheriff had rather than a hundred pounds he 
had never seen Robin Hood. 

“ Had I known before in Nottingham,” he mut- 
tered with chattering teeth, “ had I but known this, 
thou shouldst never have come back again to this 
fair forest.” 

“ That knew I well,” said Robin cheerfully. “ I 
thank God that we have thee here instead of thy 
having me in Nottingham. Therefore, ye shall 
leave here with us your horse and all the rest of your 
belongings.” 

“ God forbid,” said the Sheriff tearfully, “ that 
I should so lose my gold! ” 

“ Hither ye came on horse,” continued Robin 
mercilessly, “ but hence ye shall go on foot. Greet 
well for me when thou reachest thy home thy dear 
good wife. Thou shalt take her for me a white 
palfrey; nor for love of her shall ye see more 
sorrow.” 

Then Robin and the Sheriff parted, and the 
latter went home again to Nottingham. It was a 
weary journey he had, but when he reached home, 
his wife said: 

“ Say, how hast thou fared in the green forest? 
Hast thou seen Robin Hood? ” 

“ The devil speed him, both body and bone!” 
quoth the Sheriff feelingly. “ I have been greatly 
humbled by him. All the money that I had with 
me in the greenwood he took from me, but he sent 
thee this fair palfrey ” 


257 


ROBIN HOOD 


Then the Sheriff’s wife began to laugh so that he 
thought she would never stop. 

“ What aileth thee? ” he asked in a crabbed voice. 

“ Why,” she gasped, wiping her eyes, “ I am 
thinking that thou hast paid well for all the pots he 
gave me.” 

“ Thou speakest sooth,” said the Sheriff sourly. 
“ Here is thy palfrey. That at least he had the 
grace to send.” 

Meanwhile in Sherwood Robin and the real Pot- 
ter were talking together. 

“ Potter,” asked Robin courteously, “ what is the 
worth of the pots that I took with me into Notting- 
ham? ” 

“ Sooth,” replied the Potter, “ they were worth 
two nobles. That I could have had for my pots 
had I myself sold them in Nottingham.” 

“ Nay then,” said Robin, “ thou shalt have ten 
pounds of money fair and free; and ever when thou 
comest again to the greenwood. Potter, thou shalt 
be welcome.” 


258 


HOW ROBIN TESTED THE TANNER 


In Nottingham there lives a jolly Tanner ; 

His name is Arthur a Bland; 

There is never a squire in Nottinghamshire 
Dare bid bold Arthur stand. 


XXV, 


HOW ROBIN TESTED THE TANNER 

As Robin was standing on the edge of the forest 
one day, he saw a brawny fellow approaching him, 
bearing a long pikestaff on his shoulder. 

“ What art thou, thou bold fellow that rangest so 
boldly? ” Robin called to him. “ In sooth, thou 
lookest to me like a thief come to steal the King’s 
deer.” 

The big fellow looked at Robin scornfully. 

‘‘And what art thou? ” he asked coolly in his 
turn. 

“ I am — a keeper in this forest,” Robin answered, 
smiling to himself at his own words. “ The King 
puts me in trust to look to his deer. Therefore I 
must stay thee.” 

“ If thou art keeper in this forest,” the fellow an- 
swered impudently, “ and hast such great command 
as thou sayest, yet will it take more than that to 
make me stand.” 

Robin began to grow angry at the man’s assur- 
ance. 

“ I have no more and I need no more,” he an- 
swered sharply. “ I have a staff of another kind 
than thine which I know will do the deed ! ” and he 
touched his bow significantly. 

“ I care not a straw for thy bow and thy sword, 
261 


ROBIN HOOD 


nor for all thine arrows ! ” the other said airily. 
“ Let me get but a crack on thy pate with this trusty 
staff of mine, and then we shall see how much thou 
canst shoot.” 

“ Nay, then, I see I must correct thine ill manners 
and teach thee a lesson,” said Robin, now thor- 
oughly angry. 

“ Marry, art thou then such a goodly man? ” 
sneered the stranger. “ I care not a fig for thy 
large looks and thy boasting words. Mend thou 
thyself where thou canst! ” 

Then Robin unbuckled his belt and laid down 
his bow. He kept only his oak staff. 

“ I’ll yield to thy weapon,” said Robin, “ since 
thou wilt not yield to mine. I have a staff not half 
a foot bigger than thine. Let us measure before we 
begin our fray; for it would be unfair that my staff 
should be the longer.” 

“ I care not for length,” said the stranger care- 
lessly. “ My staff is of good oak. It is eight and 
a half feet long, quite long enough to knock down a 
calf; and so I have hopes that it will knock down 
thee!” 

“ My hope is better,” replied Robin briefly ; and 
with that he gave the other man such a crack that 
the blood streamed down his face. 

Presently, however, the stranger recovered him- 
self, and fetched Robin so hard a knock on the 
crown that it seemed as if blood trickled from every 
separate hair on his head. 

262 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


The sight of his own blood enraged Robin, and 
he began to roar with fury like a wild boar. His 
opponent saw his dangerous mood and began to lay 
om blows thick and fast, before Robin had a chance 
to recover himself. 

About and about and about they went like two 
wild boars in a chase, striving to reach each other 
on leg, arm or whatever place was nearest. Their 
quarrel had begun at about ten o’clock; and for two 
hours or more they dealt lustily knock for knock. 
They plied their work so sorely that the woods rang 
with their sounding blows. 

At length, much against his will, Robin cried out: 

“ Hold thy hand, hold thy hand, and let our 
quarrel fall! Here we might thresh our bones into 
a jelly, and without reward ! In the forest of merry 
Sherwood hereafter thou shalt be free.” 

“ God a mercy for naught! ” retorted the other 
ungraciously. “ For my freedom I may thank my 
good staff, and not thee.” 

“ What tradesman art thou? ” asked Robin curi- 
ously, as he seated himself rather waveringly on the 
ground, and looked up at the other man. “ Good 
fellow, I prithee tell me this, and also in what place 
thou dost dwell, for I would fain know.” 

“ I am a tanner,” the stranger answered; “ and I 
ply my trade in Nottingham. If thou’lt come there, 
I promise thee I will tan thy hide for naught.” 

“ God a mercy!” quoth Robin somewhat rue- 
fully. “ Methinks thou hast already done so. At 
263 


ROBIN HOOD 


least I have done about the same for thee. If thou 
wilt forsake thy tanner’s trade, and live here in the 
greenwood with me, I will give thee both gold and 
fee. I swear it by the holy cross. My name is 
Robin Hood.” 

“ If thou art indeed Robin Hood,” replied the 
tanner, “ and I think well thou art, here’s my hand! 
Henceforth we two will never part company.” 

“ And what is thy name, good fellow? ” asked 
Robin, grasping the huge hand that the other of- 
fered him. 

“ Arthur a Bland,” replied the tanner. 

So the two sat down together under a tree, and 
began very amicably to bind up the wounds that 
they had just been giving each other. 

“ Tell me,” said Arthur eagerly, “ where is Little 
John? I would fain hear of him, for he is my near 
kinsman on my mother’s side.” 

“ He hath just returned to the greenwood from 
a journey on which I sent him to accompany a 
knight,” Robin answered. “ Thou shalt see him 
straightway.” 

With that he set his horn to his lips and blew; 
and quickly Little John appeared coming down 
over the brow of a hill. 

“ O what is the matter?” Little John asked 
Robin, seeing the latter’s many cuts and bruises. 
“ I fear all is not well.” 

“ Blame yon tanner for the state I am in,” Robin 
answered. “ He is a bonny blade indeed, and as- 
264 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


suredly a master workman; for sorely he hath 
tanned me! ” 

Then Little John scowled fiercely at the tanner. 

“ He is to be commended if such a feat he can 
do,” he observed coolly. “ If he be so stout as thou 
sayest, master, I also will have a bout with him, and 
see whether he can tan my hide too ! ” 

“ Hold thy hand, hold thy hand! ” quoth Robin 
laughing. “ I am told he is a good yeoman, and 
indeed thy kinsman. His name is Arthur a Bland.” 

Then Little John flung his huge staff away as 
far as he could send it, and he ran to Arthur a Bland 
and threw his great arms around his kinsman’s neck. 

Then after they had done embracing each other, 
Robin took them both by the hand, and they all 
began to dance gayly round about the oak tree 
which had been the scene of Robin’s tanning. 
While they danced they sang lustily: 

“ For three merry men, and three merry men, 

And three merry men we be” 


265 



XXVI 


HOW ROBIN WENT TO CHURCH IN 
NOTTINGHAM 


He goes into St. Mary’s church , 

And kneeled down before the rood 
All that were the church within 
Beheld well Robin Hood. 


XXVI 


HOW ROBIN WENT TO CHURCH IN NOTTINGHAM 

In summer time, when the woods are beautiful, 
and the leaves are large and long on the trees, it is 
merry to wander in the forests and hear the birds 
singing; to see the deer drawing to the dale, and 
leaving the high hills, to take refuge in the shadow 
of the leaves under the greenwood tree. 

It befel one Whitsuntide, early on a May morn- 
ing, the sun was shining fair and the merry birds 
were singing. 

“ By Him that died on tree,” quoth Little John, 
“ this is a merry morning; and a merrier man than 
I lives not in Christendom! ” And he squared his 
broad shoulders and threw out his chest. 

He looked at Robin for sympathy, but Robin did 
not respond to his mood. He stood, his arms folded, 
leaning against a tree. Little John gazed at him 
anxiously. 

“ Pluck up heart, my dear master,” he said. 
“ Think how fair a time it is and how fair a May 
morning! ” 

“ Yea, but one thing grieves me, and does my 
heart much woe,” quoth Robin sighing. “ ’Tis 
Whitsunday, and I may not on this solemn Feast go 
269 


ROBIN HOOD 


either to Mass or Matins. It is a fortnight since I 
have been to church. To-day, with the help of 
Mary mild, I will to Nottingham.” 

Nick Much was bustling about getting breakfast 
ready. When he heard Robin say this, he paused 
and looked at his chief anxiously. 

“ Ever well betide thee, master!” he exclaimed. 
“ Take along with thee twelve good men with their 
weapons by their sides. None will then dare to harm 
thee.” 

“ Nay,” answered Robin stubbornly. “ Of all 
my merry men, by my faith I will have none go 
with me save Little J ohn; and he shall bear my bow 
for me until I choose to draw it.” 

“ I thank thee, master,” answered Little John; 
“ but bear thou thine own bow, and I will bear mine, 
and we will shoot together as we go.” 

So it was agreed; and Robin Hood and Little 
J ohn started off together through the forest 
towards Nottingham. Robin, however, must have 
been in a peevish mood that morning; for as they 
shot with each other, it came to pass that Robin 
Hood accused Little John of cheating, and these 
two good comrades fell to quarrelling with each 
other. Finally, Robin knocked down Little John, 
and fetched him a cuff over the ears. Little John 
scrambled to his feet in a fury. 

“ Wert thou not my master,” quoth Little John, 
“ thou shouldst be hit full sore for that blow. Get 
ye a man where ye will, you get me no more ! ” And 
270 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


with that he turned on his heel and strode back 
towards Sherwood. 

As for Robin, he went towards Nottingham all 
alone, and truth to tell he missed his good comrade 
sorely; but in his sulky mood, he would not admit 
that he did, even to himself. When at last he 
reached St. Mary’s Church, in Nottingham, he 
knelt down very devoutly, and prayed to God and 
to Mary mild to bring him home safe again. The 
church was crowded, since it was the great Feast 
of Whitsunday, and many saw and recognized 
Robin in his suit of Lincoln green, kneeling de- 
voutly before the holy rood. 

Just beside Robin stood a fat monk with a great 
ill-shaped head. He was of the type that Robin 
especially despised. The monk recognized Robin as 
soon as the outlaw knelt beside him, and his beady 
eyes twinkled maliciously. Presently he left Rob- 
in’s side and went out of the church, but Robin, ab- 
sorbed in his prayers, never noticed the monk’s de- 
parture. As soon as the latter had left the church, 
he ran at full speed, and ordered that all the gates 
of the city should be closed. In those days, for the 
sake of protection, towns and cities were usually 
enclosed by walls with gates at certain intervals. 
After this the monk ran and knocked loudly at the 
Sheriff’s door. 

“ Rise up, you proud Sheriff! ” he cried. “ Rise 
up and make ready! I have seen the King’s felon, 
for truly so he is, in this town. Yea, I have spied 
271 


ROBIN HOOD 


him as he stood at Mass. Once he robbed me of a 
hundred pounds. I have never forgotten nor for- 
given him. His traitor name is Robin Hood.” 

“ Robin Hood!” cried the Sheriff eagerly. 
“ One moment, holy father, and I will be with 
thee.” 

Hastily he summoned his men, and presently the 
monk and the Sheriff and a score of the Sheriff’s 
men were on their way to the church. When they 
reached there, they rushed in at the door with their 
staves all ready ; a score of men to capture one. 

Robin looked up and saw them; for naturally 
their entrance made a great commotion in the 
church. 

“ Alas! ” said Robin to himself. “ Now miss I 
Little John.” 

Nevertheless he rose from his knees, drew his 
sword, and charged bravely towards the Sheriff and 
his men. 

Just outside the church door Robin began his 
brave and unequal fight, and the congregation 
streamed out of the church, and stood by looking 
on. Many a man Robin wounded, and twelve he 
slew, but it was uneven work. Once he attacked the 
Sheriff, and his sword broke in two upon the Sher- 
iff’s head. 

“ I pray God work woe to the smith who made 
thee! ” quoth Robin ruefully, casting away the use- 
less sword. “ Now am I weaponless, alas! against 
my will, and I fear these traitors. I must run or 
272 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


they will kill me! ” And with that he turned, and 
flinging open the doors, took refuge in the church ; 
for he knew that none would dare to shed blood 
there. The Sheriff’s men speedily followed and 
captured him, and he was borne away to prison 
amidst the loud rejoicings of the Sheriff. 


273 
































































. 




XXVII 


HOW LITTLE JOHN SAVED ROBIN 
FROM PRISON 


“Now will I be porter ” said Little John , 
“And take the keys in hand;” 

He took his way to Robin Hood , 

And soon he him unbound. 


XXVII 


HOW LITTLE JOHN SAVED ROBIN FROM PRISON 

Meanwhile, when time passed in Sherwood, 
and Robin did not return, all his men were worried, 
but especially Little John. 

“ He has served Our Lady many years,” he mut- 
tered to himself ; “ and I trust to her that no wicked 
death shall he die. Come, Much,” he called to his 
comrade, “ let us go in search of our master.” 

So they strode forth together, and as they went, 
they saw a monk come riding along, and with him a 
little page. It was the same monk who had betrayed 
Robin to the Sheriff, but that, of course, Much and 
Little John did not know. 

“ Here comes one from Nottingham,” said Little 
John aside to Much. “ I know him by that wide 
ill-shaped head of his.” Then they came to the 
monk, and greeted him in apparently friendly fash- 
ion. 

“ Whence come ye? ” asked Little John. “ Tell 
us tidings, I pray you, of a false outlaw named 
Robin Hood who we hear has been taken captive. 
He robbed me and my fellows of twenty marks. 
If he be taken we shall be glad to know it.” 

“ Ay,” said the monk, “ he robbed me of an hun- 
277 


ROBIN HOOD 


dred pounds. It was I who first laid hands upon 
him in Nottingham, so ye may thank me for his 
capture.” 

“ I pray God thank you,” said Little John very 
sweetly, “ and we will when we may. We will go 
with you now, and bring you on your way in grati- 
tude. Robin Hood has many a wild fellow in the 
forest, and if they knew you were riding here, they 
would certainly slay you in vengeance for their 
master’s death.” 

The monk turned pale, and glanced about him 
fearfully. 

“ I thank you,” he said. “ I will go with you, 
good sirs.” 

So they went on together, the monk and his page 
riding, and Little John and Much walking, the 
first at the head of the monk’s horse and the other 
at the page’s. Suddenly Little John turned on the 
monk, and seizing him by the throat, dragged him 
down from his horse. 

“ Robin Hood was my master,” said Little John 
almost sobbing; “ and it is thou false monk, who 
hast brought about his capture. Never shalt thou 
tell thy tale again! ” And with that he smote off 
the monk’s head with a single blow. Then they let 
the little page go, and they went through the monk’s 
effects, and found among them a letter to the King. 

“ This letter will I bear myself to my liege 
King,” quoth Little J ohn. “ Come, Much, we will 
not waste time on the Sheriff. I will take the 
278 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


monk’s horse, and do thou take the page’s, and we 
will hie us to the King in London.” 

So off went Nick Much and Little John to Lon- 
don. When, after many days, they reached the 
city, they sought at once the King’s presence. Then 
fell Little John down on his knees before his sov- 
ereign and he said: 

“God save you, my liege lord!” and he pre- 
sented the King with the letters that he had taken 
from the monk’s body. 

The King unfolded the letters and scanned them 
rapidly. 

“So might I thrive,” said His Majesty, as he 
refolded the letters, “ there was never a yeoman in 
merry England that I longed so sorely to see. 
Where is the monk that should have brought these 
letters? ” 

“ So please Your Majesty,” replied Little John 
innocently, “ he died on the way.” 

The King sat an instant in deep thought. 

“ Take to the Sheriff of Nottingham,” he said, 
rousing himself at length, “ the royal seal of Eng- 
land, and bid him bring Robin Hood to me.” 

So Little John, rejoicing, took his leave of the 
King, and went back to Nottingham. When he 
reached the town, the gates were closed. With a 
mighty noise and halloaing, Little J ohn summoned 
the porter. 

“ What is the cause they have the gates bound so 
fast, fellow? ” quoth Little John importantly. 

279 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Because Robin Hood is cast in deep prison,” 
answered the porter. “ Little John and Nick 
Much, truly you have slain our men on our walls, 
and attacked us every day.” 

“ Well, be that as it may,” said Little John, 
“ summon me here the Sheriff.” 

“Summon the Sheriff to you!” replied the 
porter trembling. “ Nay, I should not dare! 
Rather must ye seek him.” And to this decision 
he held, despite Little John’s urging to the con- 
trary. Little J ohn was much disappointed, for he 
had taken rather a fancy to the idea of the Sheriff’s 
being called before him. At length, however, see- 
ing that the porter was not to be persuaded, he 
shrugged his shoulders and yielded. He strode to 
the Sheriff’s house, and knocking loudly on the 
door, demanded to see him. 

When the Sheriff appeared: 

“ Here,” said Little J ohn magnificently, draw- 
ing forth the King’s seal from his bosom and flour- 
ishing it in the Sheriff’s face, “ here is the royal seal. 
Tremble and attend ! ” 

When the Sheriff saw the King’s seal, he 
trembled indeed, and doffed his hood. 

“ Where is the monk that bore these letters? ” he 
said to Little J ohn. He spoke much more respect- 
fully than he usually did either to Robin or to his 
men. 

“ Sooth to say,” replied Little John cheerfully, 
" he liked the King so much that His Majesty has 
280 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


made him Abbot of Westminster and lord of that 
Abbey.” 

“ I pray you stay with me as the King’s mes- 
senger, good sir,” said the Sheriff abjectly. 

Then he made good cheer for Little John, and 
gave him his best wine, and Little John spent the 
night in the Sheriff’s best room. Now, before retir- 
ing they had eaten and drunk very heartily, and the 
Sheriff was heavy with sleep and wine. So that 
night he was so sound asleep that he did not hear 
Little John and Much rise and steal softly out to 
the gaol. 

When they reached the prison, they knocked 
loudly for the gaoler, and when sleepy and swearing 
he appeared, Little John had his sword ready and 
forced him trembling to the wall. 

“Now will I be porter,” said Little John very 
politely, “ and take those keys thou bearest; ” and 
leaving the porter shaking with fear in care of Nick 
Much, he went in search of his master. 

“ Master, Master Robin! ” he called aloud as he 
went; and much was his heart rejoiced when he 
heard at last Robin’s beloved voice in reply. 

“ Is it thou, Little John? ” he said. 

“ Master, master,” cried Little J ohn, his voice 
breaking with joy, “ have I found thee at last? ” 
Then he slashed Robin’s bonds into ribbons with his 
dagger, and gave him a sword, and the two joined 
Nick Much and went merrily off to Sherwood. 

Next morning, at the crowing of the cock, the 
281 


ROBIN HOOD 


Sheriff found Little John and Nick Much gone; 
and when he hurried to the gaol he found that his 
most precious bird had flown. Then the town bell 
rang clamorously, and when the citizens came run- 
ning they found the Sheriff fuming and fussing, 
and heard the news, many of them with secret glad- 
ness, that Robin Hood was free. 

“ I dare never come before our King again,” 
cried the Sheriff lamentably, “ since Robin Hood 
has escaped ! ” 

Meanwhile, during the hue and cry in Notting- 
ham, Robin sat under the oak tree in Sherwood, 
with Marian beside him, and Little John at his right 
hand. 

Presently, in the midst of the feasting, Little 
John looked at Robin with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“ Say what thou wilt, master,” he observed, “ I 
have done thee a good turn for an evil. I have 
brought thee back again to the greenwood. Now 
farewell, and good-day.” 

“ Nay, by my troth,” said Robin, “ that shall 
never be! ” He clapped Little John on the shoul- 
der. “ I make thee master of all my merry men 
and me,” he said. “ I can do no more.” 

“ Nay, by my troth,” said Little John in his turn, 
“ so shall it never be. Let me be thy man, dear 
master. I ask no more.” 

Then the two clasped hands, and were better 
friends than ever; and merry was the feasting on 
venison and ale in Sherwood. 

282 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


When the King heard the whole tale, he was very 
angry. 

“ Little John has beguiled the Sheriff,” quoth 
he, “ and in faith, he has beguiled me also. Me- 
thinks the Sheriff should be hanged on high. As 
for Little John, he loves Robin Hood better than 
any one, and Robin soothly is bound to him. We 
will speak no more of this; but Little John hath be- 
guiled us all.” 


283 


0 


♦ 


XXVIII 


ROBIN AND THE PEDLARS 


“Yonder 1 see bold Pedlars three,” 

Said Robin to Scarlet and John; 
“We'll search their packs upon their backs 
Before that they be gone.” 


XXVIII 

ROBIN AND THE PEDLARS 

One summer’s day, as Robin Hood, Will Scarlet 
and Little John took their way through the green 
forest of Sherwood to kill the King’s deer, it befell 
that they saw three pedlars on the road. Each of 
the pedlars had his pack full for the country fairs, 
and the plump bags were trussed up on their backs. 
Each one had in his hand, too, a staff fully a yard 
and a half long. They were all bound to Notting- 
ham town. 

“ Yonder I see three bold pedlars,” said Robin to 
Will and Little John. “ We’ll search those fat 
packs of theirs before they go any farther.” 

“ Halloa, good fellows! ” he went on, addressing 
the three pedlars. “ Whither is it ye go? Now 
stay and rest a while, for that shall be well.” 

“ No rest we need,” replied one of the pedlars; 
“ we are going to Nottingham.” 

“ Nay, now, that is a lie,” quoth Robin cheer- 
fully. He said this merely to provoke them, be- 
cause in reality he thought they were telling the 
truth. They said nothing in reply or in defence, 
however, but went on over the lea. 

“ I charge you, tarry! ” Robin called after them. 
287 


ROBIN HO O D 


“You must know this is by right mine own land. 
This is my manor and my park, good sooth ; and I 
see, since ye are in such a hurry to be gone, ye can 
be nothing more than bold outlaws.” 

The three pedlars turned around to look at him 
scornfully, but they said nothing, and merely con- 
tinued on their way. 

This irritated Robin, for he was not accustomed 
to be treated so cavalierly; he took an arrow from 
his quiver and drew his bow. The swift arrow went 
through the pack of the pedlar who walked last. 
It was well for him that it fell on his pack; but if 
it had not, his life would have ended then and there. 
Even as it was, the arrow grazed the skin of his 
back. 

Then were the three pedlars greatly incensed; 
and they all flung down their packs and waited 
until Robin and his men came up to them. 

“ I said ye had better stand,” quoth Robin coolly, 
as he reached the pedlars. “ Good sooth, ye were 
to blame! ” 

“ And who art thou? ” asked the pedlar with the 
wounded back. His tone was furious. “ By St. 
Crispin, I vow I’ll quickly crack thine head! ” 

“ Come on, all three or one! ” cried Robin cheer- 
fully. “ That is not so soon done as said. My 
name is Robin Hood, and these merry men of mine 
are Will Scarlet, and Little John. Here we are, 
three to three; so now, brave fellows, lay on! ” 

Without more words they began to fight. The 
288 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


first pedlar’s staff broke Robin’s bow. As for Will 
Scarlet and Little John, they each were given so 
hard a crack that he could scarcely stand up under 
it. 

“Now hold your hands!” cried Robin. “Ye 
have oaken staves. Tarry until we can get the like 
for ourselves, and then a fig for you all ! ” 

“ We are all content! ” said one of the pedlars, 
whose name was Kit o’ Thirske. 

So each of the outlaws took a staff for his weapon 
to make the pedlars repent the stiff blows they had 
given them; and to it they fell, and their blows fell 
ringing upon the others’ backs. In fact, the pedlars 
began to wish they still had their packs as protec- 
tion. 

The pedlars, however, held their own. Robin 
began to rue the hour he had stopped them, and to 
Will Scarlet and Little John the sun looked actu- 
ally blue, so many blows had they received. 

At last Kit’s staff gave Robin a stroke that made 
the latter’s head ring again. Robin staggered and 
reeled, and the trees seemed to dance merrily 
around him as he fell heavily on the grass. 

“Now hold your hands, pedlars!” cried Little 
John; and so said Will Scarlet also. “ Our master 
is slain!” cried Little John, almost sobbing as he 
knelt beside Robin and felt his heart. “ I tell you 
plainly he will never speak again.” 

“Heaven forfend!” said Kit o’ Thirske. “I 
love him well enough ; but let him learn to be wise, 
289 


ROBIN HOOD 


and not meddle with poor pedlars. In my paek 
here I have a balsam which will heal his wounds 
anon;” and with that he whipped out from his 
pack two or three small boxes; and while Little 
John put the soothing salve on Robin’s wounds, 
Kit popped a powder into his mouth. 

“ Now, fare ye well! ” cried Kit, rising and pick- 
ing up his pack. “ ’Twere best for ye not to tell 
how ye all met three pedlars ; or if you do, tell also 
how they made you work and sweat ! * 

With that, the three pedlars laughed tauntingly, 
shouldered their packs, and strode off again towards 
Nottingham. 

Meanwhile, with heavy hearts, Will Scarlet and 
Little John tended their dear master, until at 
length he sighed and stirred and came back to him- 
self; but he was very weak and sick. They were 
three much chastened men who slowly made their 
way home to their comrades in Sherwood. 

“ Next time we challenge a foe, master,” quoth 
Little John dolefully, “ we shall look well they are 
not too stout, or else we may again have the worst 
of the bargain ! ” 


290 



XXIX 


HOW ROBIN PLAYED THE 
FISHERMAN 













































The fishermen brave more money have 
Than any merchant , two or three; 
Therefore I ivill to Scarborough go, 
That I a fisherman brave may be. 


XXIX 


HOW ROBIN PLAYED THE FISHERMAN 

One lovely summer day, when the leaves were 
green and long upon the trees, Robin Hood, 
strange to say, grew weary of the woods and of 
chasing the fallow deer, and longed, as all men oc- 
casionally long, for something different from what 
he already knew. 

“ The fishermen have more money than any mer- 
chant, ’’ he said, although why he thought of fisher- 
men when he was so many miles from the sea he 
could not have told. “ I will go to Scarborough and 
be a fisherman brave.” 

No sooner said than done. He called together 
his merry men as they sat under the greenwood 
tree, and said: 

“Now go I to Scarborough, and if any of you 
have gold to spend, I pray you heartily spend it 
with me. I am going to Scarborough on this fair 
day to be a fisherman.” 

Then they all looked at one another in amaze- 
ment, and not even Little John found a word to say. 
Before they had recovered themselves Robin Hood 
waved them farewell, and ran gayly off, taking with 
him his bow and arrows. 

293 


ROBIN HOOD 


When he reached Scarborough, he took up his 
abode at a widow woman’s just beside the gray 
water. 

“ Where wert thou born? ” she asked him curi- 
ously when he came and inquired for lodgings. 
“ Where dost thou fare? ” 

“ I am a poor fisherman,” answered Robin. 
“ This day am I weighed down with care,” and he 
pulled a long face and sighed dolefully. 

The widow looked at him softly enough, for he 
was a fine fellow in his green doublet and hose, and 
his scarlet cloak. 

“ What is thy name, thou fine fellow? I pray 
thee heartily tell it to me,” she asked him gently. 

“ In mine own country, where I was born,” 
Robin answered, “ men call me Simon over the 
Lea.” 

“ Simon, Simon! ” repeated the good widow. “ I 
wish thou mayst well fit thy name, since Simon 
Peter was a fisherman.” 

The outlaw bowed his thanks for her courtesy, 
rejoicing inwardly that he had selected so pleasant 
and handsome a landlady. 

“ Simon, wilt thou be my man? ” she asked him 
softly. “ Good round wages I’ll give thee. I have 
as good a ship of mine own as any that sails on the 
sea. Thou shalt want neither anchors nor planks 
nor long masts and ropes.” 

“ If thou furnish me thus,” answered Robin 
airily, “ nothing shall go wrong.” 

294 : 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


The widow was as good as her word. It was not 
long before Robin was sailing away as a sailor on 
her ship. They plucked up anchor and sailed for 
two or three days. Then they began to fish. When 
the other sailors cast baited lines into the sea, Robin 
knew no better than to cast in bare hooks. When 
the other men discovered this, they roared with 
boisterous glee. The master looked at him con- 
temptuously. 

“ It will be long,” he said, “ ere this great lubber 
do thrive on the sea. I’ll assure you he shall have 
no part of our fish, for in truth he is not worthy to 
have them.” 

“ O woe is me,” said Robin to himself, “ the day 
that ever I came here ! I wish I were in Sherwood 
chasing the fallow deer! Everyone here laughs me 
to scorn, and sets me at naught. If I had them in 
Sherwood, how little would I set by them! ” And 
then he groaned and held his head in his hands, for 
in addition to the men’s unfriendliness, he felt 
rather seasick. 

After they had done fishing they plucked up 
anchor again, and once more sailed away ; and this 
time Robin was the first to spy a ship of war sailing 
valorously towards them. 

“ O woe is me! ” quoth the master of the ship, 
quaking and wringing his hands. “ Woe the day 
that ever I was born! All the fish we have 
got to-day are now lost. Yon French robbers 
on the sea will not spare a man of us, but 
295 


ROBIN HOOD 


carry us to the court of France, and throw us into 
prison.” 

Robin lifted his head, and rose from the place 
near the sail where he had been miserably crouch- 
ing. 

“ Do not fear them! ” he said jauntily. “ Take 
you no care, master. Give me my bent bow in my 
hand, and never a Frenchman will I spare.” 

“ Hold thy peace, thou lazy lubber! ” replied the 
master testily. “ Thou art naught but brag and 
bluster. If I should cast thee overboard there 
would be one less lazy ninny on the sea.” 

Robin flushed angrily at these words, and 
clapped his hand on the place where his sword 
should have been; but alas! there was none there. 
He remembered, however, his precious bow and ar- 
rows, which were hidden in his cabin. He ran 
thither, and presently came back, carrying his bow 
and a quiverful of arrows by his side. He found 
the crew on the deck in abject terror, some swear- 
ing, some praying, with the war ship getting nearer 
and nearer every moment. 

He went to the ship hatch, bow in hand. 

“ Master, tie me to the mast,” he said, “ that at 
my mark I may stand fair, and give me my bent 
bow in my hand, and I will spare no Frenchman 
of them all!” 

Then with might and main he drew his arrow to 
the very head, and straightway, in the twinkling of 
an eye, it found a Frenchman’s heart. He fell 
296 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


down in the ship’s hatch and then to its very bot- 
tom; and the crew of Robin’s boat saw another 
Frenchman throw the corpse into the sea. 

“ O master, loose me from the mast,” called 
Robin then, “ and take you no care at all. Give me 
my bent bow in my hand and never a Frenchman 
will I spare.” 

Nor did he; and presently all the Frenchmen 
were lying dead, and the crew of Robin’s boat 
bounded on the ship and found there twelve thou- 
sand pounds in money. 

“ One-half of the ship,” said Robin, “ I will give 
unto my sweet wife, the other I’ll bestow on you, 
my fellows.” 

“ Nay,” said the master of the ship, who was a 
just man despite the rudeness of his manner, “ it 
shall not so be, Simon. You have won the boat 
with your own broad arrows, and you shall be the 
owner of it.” 

“ Nay,” said Robin stubbornly, “ it shall be as I 
have said; and with this gold I will build a house 
for the poor and the oppressed where they may live 
out their days in comfort and in peace.” 

And so it was ; and so were the tables turned ; and 
Robin Hood the fisherman became the hero of them 
all. 


297 
















































































































































































































































































































































































* 


































































































































XXX 


HOW WILL SCARLET WON A 
PRINCESS 


Then did the Princess view all three, 
With a comely , lovely grace, 

Who took Will Scarlet by the hand, 
Quoth, Here I make my choice. 


XXX 


HOW WILL SCARLET WON A PRINCESS 

Robin Hood, Will Scarlet and Little John were 
walking over the plain one day, carrying among 
them a good fat buck that Will Scarlet had just 
killed. 

“ Jog on! jog on! ” cried Robin cheerily. “ The 
day runs full fast, and here we have a dinner ready 
which Will Scarlet hath made for us.” 

Little John laid a hand on his arm and pointed 
towards the highroad. 

“ Look, master! ” he said. 

They saw a beautiful damsel, riding on a black 
palfrey. As she came nearer, they noted that she 
was dressed in black, and that a crepe veil was 
partly drawn over her face. Her head was bent 
dejectedly, and she seemed to be in deep sorrow. 

Robin started towards her, Will Scarlet and 
Little John following close at hand. 

“ Come tell me the cause of thy sad ’havior, fair 
one ! ” quoth Robin, doffing his hood as he reached 
her. “ Tell me truly whence thou comest and 
whither thou goest, and why thou art in so sorrow- 
ful a plight. Perchance I can assist thee in thy 
quest.” 


301 


ROBIN HOOD 


The damsel put back her veil, and looked at him 
imploringly. 

“ From London I come,” she answered, “ which 
now is circled with foreign arms.” 

Robin clapped his hand on his sword. 

“ If that be so,” he said, “ it is the duty of every 
good Englishman to haste to London town. Who 
besieges the city? ” 

“ The proud Prince of Aragon,” replied the 
damsel, and as she spoke she wrung her hands. 
“ He swears he must have the Princess for his bride, 
or he will lay waste the whole land. Unless cham- 
pions be found who will dare to fight three to three 
against the Prince and the two giants who accom- 
pany him, it looks as if he must e’en have his 
will.” 

“ Two giants!” repeated Robin slowly, his eyes 
kindling. He squared his powerful shoulders, and 
threw back his head. “ I am not a dwarf,” he said; 
“ and tell me, damsel, are the Prince’s giants any 
taller than this one of ours ? ” and he clapped af- 
fectionately Little John’s brawny back. 

“ Oh, sir, I have never seen them,” the damsel 
answered, tears standing in her eyes ; “ but rumor 
hath it they are most horrid things to behold ! Their 
looks are grisly, and ’tis said their eyes are like 
swords and strike terror to one’s heart. Instead of 
plumes, it is rumored that they wear hissing ser- 
pents ! ” 

“ Ah! ” sighed Little John longingly, “ they are 
302 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


goodly giants, master! Methinks I would like to 
have a look at them! ” 

“ Well,” said Robin slowly, “ serpents on helmets 
would not be hard to seize and strangle; and eyes, 
however fierce, draw no blood.” 

The damsel looked hopefully at the three goodly 
men before her. 

“ The King hath sworn,” she said, “ that the 
Princess shall be the bride of the champion who is 
victor over the proud Aragon and his men. Four 
damsels, of whom I am one, have been sent north, 
south, east and west, to see whose fortune is so good 
as to find a champion; but all in vain so far has been 
our seeking. None is so bold as to adventure his 
life to rescue a fair lady.” 

The three outlaws exchanged glances. 

“ When is the day appointed for the combat? ” 
asked Robin. “ Tell me this and no more.” 

“ On Midsummer Day,” replied the damsel. 
Then the tears trickled down her cheeks and she was 
silent, except to bid them good-morrow. She left 
them, and the palfrey went on along the highway. 

Robin, frowning perplexedly, threw himself 
down on the ground. 

“ The thought of this poor distressed Princess 
wounds me to the heart,” he said. “ Let us go fight 
the giants all, my merry men! What say ye? ” 

“ Tell me but where this giant lies! ” said Will 
Scarlet; and Little John gave a great sigh of joy 
at Robin’s words. 


303 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Free she shall be also to choose her own bride- 
groom between you!” continued Robin, looking 
from one to the other, with a twinkle in his eyes. 
“ I am already a happy, married man and my dear 
lady is sweeter to me than any princess.” Whereat 
Will Scarlet grinned consciously, but Little John 
said cheerfully: 

“ The devil take my soul if I part company with 
thee!” 

“ And must I stay behind? ” quoth Will Scarlet. 
“ No, that must not be! I’ll make the third one in 
the fight. So shall we be three to three as the 
damsel s.aid.” 

Robin, well pleased at the gallant words of his 
dear comrades, threw an arm across each pair of 
broad shoulders; and they started to walk back to 
the trysting tree. 

“ We’ll put on moth gray cloaks,” said Robin, 
“ and each carry a long staff and a scrip and bottle, 
as if we had come from the Holy Land. So we 
may pass along the highway and all will take us for 
pilgrims.” 

Midsummer Day was not far off; so in a few days 
Robin and Will and Little J ohn, dressed as Robin 
had proposed, were on their way to London. They 
reached the city on the very day of the tournament, 
and they found everyone streaming towards the 
lists. When the three pilgrims reached the field, 
they saw the Princess standing all forlorn in the 
very front of the royal dais, dressed in white, her 
304 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


head downcast, and great tears streaming. The 
Prince of Aragon, with an air of bravado, was 
swaggering about the lists, accompanied by two 
men, who overtopped Little John by perhaps two 
inches. 

“ Bring forth your champions! ” the Prince was 
crying mockingly. “ Else bring me forth my 
bride! It is Midsummer Day. Bring forth my 
bride, or London burns to the ground! I swear 
it! ” 

The King and Queen sat on their thrones, and 
gazed anxiously across the lists, hoping against 
hope that some champions would appear. Like the 
Princess, they looked very woebegone, and their 
eyes were dim with tears. 

“ Lo, we have brought here our daughter, thou 
haughty Prince!” cried the King, almost sobbing. 
“ If we must sacrifice her for our city, we must; but 
are there no bold Englishmen to champion her 
cause? ” 

With that, Robin Hood stepped forward, still in 
his palmer’s cloak of gray. 

“ My liege,” he cried in a clear, ringing voice, 
“ this must not be ! Such beauty as that of the fair 
Princess is not for a tyrant! ” 

The Prince of Aragon looked daggers at him, 
and hissed out: 

“ Thou fool, thou baboon, how darest thou stop 
the prize of my valor from me? I will kill thee with 
a frown! ” and he scowled at Robin most horribly.’ 

305 


ROBIN HOOD 


For answer, Robin threw back his head and 
roared with laughter. 

“ Thou tyrant! ” he answered calmly. “ I scorn 
thy foolish frown! Lo, here’s my gage!” and he 
dashed his glove with unerring aim directly in the 
Prince’s face. 

The Prince nearly foamed with rage. While he 
was spluttering helplessly and trying to think of an 
adequate reply, Robin went on : 

“As for those two Goliaths beside thee, I have 
here with me two Davids who can soon tame them ; ” 
and he beckoned to Will and Little John, who 
strode up and stood beside him, appearing very for- 
midable, despite their palmers’ garb. 

The King and Queen looked much more hopeful ; 
and as for the Princess, she raised her drooping 
head, and gazed so imploringly at her three sturdy 
champions that her face would have melted a much 
harder heart than any of theirs. 

“Bring hither armor for these champions!” 
cried the King. “ Let each have a lance, a sword 
and a shield ! ” 

A few minutes later the three merry men came on 
the field, dressed in the armor provided by the King. 
The people applauded them wildly, the trumpets 
sounded the charge, and the combat began. 

Of all the men of Sherwood, these were the choic- 
est, and they fought the Prince and his giants so 
bravely and so furiously that soon blood streamed 
from the foreigners’ faces, and then from their 
306 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


bodies, and their swords were hacked into frag- 
ments. The Prince with might and main struck 
Robin a blow which forced the latter to reel again; 
but he came back with added fury. 

“ God a mercy! ” quoth Robin fiercely. “ For 
that blow the quarrel shall soon be tried! Behold 
with this stroke I divorce thy bride and thee! ” And 
with a clean cut, he struck the Prince’s head from 
his shoulders and it rolled away down the field. 

Then the giants, seeing their master’s fate, began 
to rage indeed with fear and fury, and to redouble 
their strokes. 

“ Have at thee!” quoth Little John cheerfully 
to the giant he was opposing. “ Thou’lt be the 
next unless thou well guard thy head! ” 

With that he whirled his sword about, and clove 
the giant through clean down to his waist, so that 
his very heart was cut in twain. 

Meanwhile Will Scarlet had brought his giant 
to his knees. 

“ The devil, methinks, cannot break his fast un- 
less he have all three of you!” remarked Will 
sweetly; and he ran the giant through with his 
sword. Foaming and cursing, the latter fell dead. 

Greatly rejoiced the people when they saw the 
three enemies who had so threatened them lying 
dead on the field. The very skies resounded with 
cheers and cries of blessing for the strangers who 
had won the day. While the combat on which her 
fate depended was going on, the poor Princess had 
307 


ROBIN HOOD 


fallen to the ground in a swoon ; but the shouts of 
the people aroused her and she staggered to her 
feet, and stood smiling at her three champions. 

Then were Robin and Will and Little John sum- 
moned before the royal throne, whereon sat the 
King and Queen; and the Princess sat on the steps 
at their feet, and smiled and blushed by turns. She 
looked like a white rose faintly touched with the 
glow of sunrise, and she appeared most sweet and 
adorable. 

“ Tell me,” quoth the King, “ who you are that 
came thus disguised to our rescue, and to fight for 
the honor of England. Your valor speaks of noble 
blood running in the veins of all three.” 

They all fell on their knees before the King. 

“A boon, a boon, my liege! ” said Robin. “ We 
beg and crave it on our knees ! ” 

“ By my crown,” said the King, “ I grant it with- 
out more words. Ask what you will, and it is 
yours.” 

“ Then,” said Robin, “ pardon, I pray you, for 
my merry men and me. I am Robin Hood and 
these are Will Scarlet and Little John! ” 

The Queen started as the three put up their hel- 
mets and showed their faces. 

“Ay, my lord,” she said, “ these are of the men 
who fought as my archers.” 

“ I remember them well,” said the King 
graciously. “Art thou indeed Robin Hood? ” he 
went on, looking curiously at the famous outlaw. 

308 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“For the valor you three have shown, your pardon 
I freely grant. I welcome every one of you to the 
court for as long as you please to stay.” Then he 
smiled down at the Princess seated at his feet. “ I 
have promised my daughter as prize to the victor,” 
he said. “ Natheless she cannot wed you all 
three.” 

“ Nay, my liege,” said Robin. “ I am already 
a married man, and my dear lady is as a Princess 
to me. Let Her Highness choose, if it please you, 
between the other two.” 

“ It shall be so,” said the King. 

“ Then little share falls to me! ” muttered Little 
John ruefully; for Will Scarlet was far more hand- 
some and debonair than he, although both were tall 
and well-built. 

With lovely, blushing grace, the Princess looked 
first at Will Scarlet and then at Little John, and 
back again at Will, where her glance lingered. 
There could be small doubt of her choice, for Will 
Scarlet was the comeliest of all the men of Sher- 
wood, not excepting Robin himself. 

“ Here I make my choice! ” she said at last shyly, 
and extended her hand to Will. 

“ Thou hast well chosen, dear Princess!” quoth 
Robin, bending in his turn above her hand. “ Will 
Scarlet is of noble blood. He is my own cousin, 
and the Earl of Maxfield is his father.” 

Then the people gave another great shout of re- 
joicing, and at last they began to disperse. The 
309 


ROBIN HOOD 


King and Queen and the Princess went back to the 
palace, accompanied by the three merry men; and 
at once preparations began for the wedding. 

“ I am well satisfied, master,” quoth Little John 
in a low voice to Robin, as they went, “ that things 
have so fallen out. I am a simple yeoman, I, and 
I know naught of courtly ways. Sweet as is the 
Princess, I have ne’er yet seen the woman who 
would make up to me for leaving Sherwood and 
thee.” 

“ When thou dost marry, Little John,” quoth 
Robin, clapping him merrily on the shoulder, “ thou 
must find a bride like my Marian who will love to 
roam the woods by thy side.” 

“ Mayhap,” replied Little John doubtfully. He 
looked at Robin with a doglike fidelity shining in 
his eyes. “ Methinks I shall ne’er find any woman 
whom I love better than I do thee,” he said simply. 

The wedding took place within a week. There 
was great feasting and pomp and ceremony, and so 
at last Will Scarlet was married to his lovely Prin- 
cess, and became a man of the court. Robin and 
Little John went back to the forest after it was all 
over; but Sherwood knew Will Scarlet no more. 


310 


XXXI 


HOW ROBIN RESCUED WILL 
STUTELY 


Will Stutely surprised was, 

And eke in prison lay; 

Three varlets that the Sheriff had hired 
Did likely him betray. 


XXXI 


HOW ROBIN RESCUED WILL STUTELY 

For a long time after the rescue of the Princess, 
the men of Sherwood roamed the woods un- 
molested. The King was true to his word, and the 
Sheriff dared not harm those whom the King had 
pardoned. Then the King died, and the King’s 
sons were at enmity, and England was plunged 
into strife and discord for many years. Richard, 
the son whom the people loved best, was fighting in 
the Crusades when he succeeded to the throne. He 
was far away in the Holy Land, and his brother 
John ruled in his stead. It was during his control 
of England that the merry men of Sherwood be- 
gan to be harassed again. 

Robin stood under his favorite place beneath the 
oak tree one afternoon, when he saw approaching 
him a palmer in a brown cloak with his face muffled 
in his hood. 

“ I bring thee news, Robin,” said the palmer, 
speaking in a husky voice, as if he suffered from a 
heavy cold; “ news that will grieve thee sore.” 

“And what news is that? ” asked Robin, won- 
dering why the palmer had sought him out. 

“ Three varlets hired by the Sheriff set upon Will 
313 


ROBIN HOOD 


Stutely this morning as he went through the streets 
of Nottingham/’ replied the palmer, “ and honest 
Will is betrayed into the Sheriff’s hands. Two of 
them he slew, but the third overpowered him, and' 
he lies now in prison, condemned to be hanged to- 
morrow at daybreak.” 

Robin gave a long whistle of dismay, and looked 
searchingly at the palmer. 

“Will did indeed go to Nottingham this morn- 
ing,” he said. “ Who art thou that brings me this 
heavy tidings? ” 

“ Thy friend,” answered the palmer huskily. 
“ Seek to learn no more, for time presses. Sum- 
mon thy merry men, and go to Will’s rescue. I 
swear by Our Blessed Lady that I speak sooth.” 

“ On that oath I believe thee,” said Robin, setting 
his horn to his lips. “ Stay with me, palmer, and 
thou shalt go with us to Nottingham. I swear thou 
shalt be safe, and we shall welcome thy company, 
unless thy path lies elsewhere.” 

With that he blew his bugle thrice, and as usual 
at the summons, his merry men gathered around 
him. 

“ My comrades,” cried Robin, as he stood slightly 
elevated above the rest, “this palmer brings me 
word that honest Will Stutely lies at the mercy of 
the Sheriff in Nottingham. He is under sentence 
to be hanged to-morrow morn! ” 

In answer, a great shout burst from seven score 
throats: 


3H 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ Save him! Bring him back to the forest! 
Robin Hood to the rescue ! ” 

“So say I!” cried Robin. “Arm yourselves 
then at once, and make ready that we may leave 
the forest early to-morrow morning, and reach 
Nottingham ere dawn. Meanwhile entertain well 

this gentle palmer, who ” He turned towards 

the place where the palmer had been standing, and 
found him gone. 

“ Whither hath he vanished? ” quoth Robin star- 
ing. “ Is this some trick, I wonder? Natheless 
we must not risk the life of honest Will. Make 
ready, comrades, as I have said, and we shall all go 
forth together. Mayhap the gentle palmer was 
alarmed by your size and numbers.” 

While it was yet dusk the next morning, a goodly 
company set out for Nottingham. Robin himself 
was in scarlet, his men in forest green, and they had 
made no attempt this time to disguise themselves. 
Each man carried a sword beside his huge bow. 

It was nearly dawn when they reached the place 
of Will Stutely’s imprisonment, and as they neared 
it in the dim light of the approaching day, Robin 
saw rising from the shadows the selfsame palmer 
who had brought him warning. 

“ I think it good.” said Robin in a low voice to 
his nearest men, at the same time nodding a greet- 
ing to the palmer, “ I think it good to wait here in 
ambush until the time of the execution draws near. 
Pass the word along!” Then he turned to the 
315 


ROBIN HOOD 


palmer. “ Greetings, pilgrim,” he said. “ Thou 
didst leave me strangely sudden yestereve. Dost 
know what time Will Stutely is sentenced to die? ” 

“Alack and alas ! ” replied the palmer, “ I hear 
Will is to be hanged at dawn, as I told thee, but 
I know not the exact moment.” 

“We are in time then,” said Robin. “ Me- 
thinks Will is not to die to-day, but if he doth, good 
sooth, his death shall be avenged.” 

Scarcely had he spoken the words than it was 
dawn indeed, and in the pale light a gallows was 
visible in the courtyard, just outside of which they 
were standing. Then with a great clatter, the gates 
were presently opened, and out came Will Stutely, 
well guarded by the Sheriff’s men. 

“ Be ready, comrades ! ” muttered Robin. There 
were very few town’s people present. It was 
likely that the Sheriff had arranged the execution 
at so early an hour that the audience might be 
small; for he knew well that popular sympathy 
would not be with him. Will walked slowly up 
the steps to the gallows, and looked around him, but 
saw no friendly face. The outlaws were crouched 
under convenient trees, and within kindly shadows, 
and not one of them was visible. Will sighed, and 
raised his eyes to heaven. Robin had not heard of 
his plight, he thought, so he must die. Then he 
turned and spoke to the Sheriff by his side. 

“ Seeing that I must needs die,” he said, “ grant 
me one boon. Never hath one of my noble master’s 
316 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


men been hanged. Unbind me, and give a sword 
into my hand, and let me fight with thee and thy 
men until I lie dead.” 

The Sheriff shook his head and scowled fiercely. 

“ ’Tis not for a rogue and a traitor to choose the 
manner of his death,” he answered. “ Here is the 
gallows ready, and hanged thou shalt surely be ! ” 

“Nay then, do but unbind my hands and let 
me fight without weapons,” pleaded Will. “ I will 
use but my bare hands. Only I pray thee, good 
Sheriff, let me not be hanged.” 

“ Oh, no; oh, no!” said the Sheriff tauntingly. 
“Cease thy whining, fellow! Thou shalt surely 
die on the gallows ; ay, and so shalt thy master, if 
e’er he comes within my power.” 

“Thou dastard coward!” cried Will Stutely. 
“Thou faint-hearted peasant slave! If ever my 
master meet thee, thou shalt have thy payment for 
this! He scorns thee and all cravens like thee! 
Such a silly fool as thou will never subdue bold 
Robin!” 

Even with the words, out of a bush near by sud- 
denly leapt Little John. He strode up to Will, re- 
gardless of the Sheriff’s gasp of amazement and 
horror. 

“ Take leave of thy dear friends before thou dost 
die, Will,” said Little John. “ I needs must bor- 
row him a while. How say you to that, Master 
Sheriff? ” 

The Sheriff was chalk white, for he recognized 
317 


ROBIN HOOD 


Little John, and he knew that Robin must have 
been warned of Will’s danger. 

“ Now as I live,” cried the Sheriff, trembling, 
“ I know thee well, varlet, and I like not the color 
of thy coat. Seize him, my men! ” 

Then Little John, grinning cheerfully, and pay- 
ing not the slightest attention to the Sheriff, drew 
forth his sword, cut Will Stutely’s bonds, and 
twitched another sword away from one of the 
Sheriff’s guards. 

“ Here, Will, take thou this,” he said. “ Thou 
art better able to swing it than its owner. Defend 
thyself a while — for aid is coming straightway,” he 
whispered in Will Stutely’s ear. 

Then they turned their backs to each other, and 
began fighting. It was scarcely a moment before, 
there was a shout of cheer, and Robin and his men 
rose from their hiding-places. 

“ Make haste away! ” cried the Sheriff to his men, 
his teeth chattering with fear; and with that he took 
to his heels and ran with his men after him. Of 
course, there was no more fighting to be done, since 
the enemy had disappeared, and some of the out- 
laws heaved great sighs of disappointment in con- 
sequence. 

“ Oh, stay! Oh, stay!” called Will tauntingly 
after the Sheriff’s retreating back. “ Take leave 
ere you depart ! Ye will ne’er capture brave Robin 
Hood when ye dare not meet him face to face! ” 

“ 111 betide you that ye go so soon,” quoth Robin, 
318 



I 'ell me what this means 










. 





■ 





























- 

















































AND HIS MERRY MEN 


gazing after the fleeing backs with disappointment. 
“ My sword may rest in its scabbard, for here our 
work is done.” 

Then Will Stutely turned to Little John, and 
threw his arms around his comrade. 

“ I little thought when I came to this place that 
I should e’er meet Little John or see my dear 
master again! ” he cried, tears of joy and gratitude 
standing in his eyes. 

“ Nay,” said Robin, clapping him on the shoul- 
der, “ surely thou didst not think thy comrades 
would desert thee in thy need? Now I bethink me,” 
he went on, “ ’tis to this good palmer that thou dost 
owe thy freedom. Come hither, gentle pilgrim, 
and let Will Stutely thank thee for the warning 
that brought about his rescue.” 

The palmer came forward slowly. His hood was 
still pulled close about his face. 

“ May not Will see the countenance of his de- 
liverer! ” asked Robin, and gently he pushed back 
the hood from the palmer’s face. Then he gasped 
in astonishment. 

“Marian!” he cried; and without more ado he 
kissed the lovely, mischievous face that his hand had 
disclosed. “ Tell me what this means! ” he added, 
shaking his finger at her in mock rebuke. “ Thou 
didst dine with us last night — but now I bethink 
me it was after the palmer had disappeared.” 

She blushed and laughed and hid her face on his 
shoulder. 


319 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ I wore the disguise to go into Nottingham to 
Mass yestermorn, ,, she said; “ and while I knelt in 
church, I heard a great hue and cry, and I ran out 
with the rest pf the congregation, and beheld hon- 
est Will taken captive. Then I ran home to the 
greenwood to tell thee ” 

“ But why the disguise for me? ” asked Robin, 
putting his arm around her. He looked much be- 
wildered. “ Why didst thou not in thine own 
person ” 

Marian hung her head, and replied in true 
womanly fashion. 

“ Because !” she murmured. Then she reached 
up to his ear and whispered childishly: “ I just 
wanted to see whether thou wouldst know me ; and 
thou didst not. Robin, thou didst not know me for 
one moment ! ” 

Robin laughed and kissed her again. 

“ Sooth I did not,” he said; “ but why it gives 
thee such strange satisfaction that I did not is more 
than I can fathom! Wear thy cloak still, thou 
pretty palmer, and come back with us to rejoice in 
Sherwood. Thou art a true daughter of the forest, 
and my very dear lady! Let us go, my men, and 
once more hear the twang of our bowstrings in the 
greenwood, that music which is sweetest to us all ! ” 


320 


XXXII 


HOW ROBIN FOUGHT GUY OF 
GISBORNE 


“ I dwell by dale and down,” quotli Guy 
“ And I have done many a curst turn; 
And he that calls me by my right name, 
Calls me Guy of good Gisborne.” 


XXXII 


HOW ROBIN FOUGHT GUY OF GISBORNE 

Robin woke with a great cry and sat upright. 
It was the dawn of a fair day in the forest. Seeing 
naught save the familiar walls of his bower rising 
about him, and hearing nothing but the drowsy 
twittering of birds in the awakening morning, his 
brow cleared with relief. 

“ What a dream! Ah, what a dream! ” he mut- 
tered, brushing his hand across his forehead as if 
to clear away an unpleasant memory. 

Marian opened her eyes sleepily at the sound of 
his voice. 

“ What is it, Robin? ” she said. 

“ Only a dream, sweetheart,” he answered sooth- 
ingly. “It is over! Be at rest!” Quite satis- 
fied, she closed her eyes again; but Robin still sat 
on, holding his head between his hands. 

“ They did beat me and take my bow from me! ” 
he murmured. “ ’Twas but a dream; and yet — 
when it is fully day, Little John and I will go in 
search of these two strangers to see whether they 
be real or only creatures of a dream.” 

When at last it was morning, and the merry men 
were all astir, Robin Hood took Little John aside 
323 


ROBIN HOOD 


and told him of his dream. Men put great faith in 
dreams at that time as omens of good or ill. 

“ Dost think it meant anything, Little John? ” 
Robin asked anxiously. 

Little John looked thoughtful. 

“ Dreams are swift, master! ” quoth he. “ They 
be swift as the wind that blows yonder on the hill. 
It may be never so loud to-night, and to-morrow 
we may be unable to hear it.” 

“ Well, busk thyself and take thy bow, and come 
along with me, Little John,” said Robin. “ We’ll 
see what we shall find.” 

They put on their suits of Lincoln green, and 
took both swords and bows, and went together 
through the greenwood. Presently they saw a 
man leaning against a tree. He had a sword and 
a dagger, and he was clad in the strangest garb that 
either of them had ever seen. Little John frankly 
gaped at him with open mouth, and Robin looked 
much astonished. 

The stranger was dressed from top to toe in a 
horse’s hide. His face was surrounded by what 
had been the horse’s head, and the mane hung down 
behind like the plume on a helmet. The horse’s 
tail had been left on the hide, too; and altogether 
the man had a repulsive look, like a monster rather 
than a human being. 

“ Stand thou still, master, under this tree,” quoth 
Little John; “ and I will go to yon yeoman to ask 
the meaning of this strange attire.” 

324 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


Robin’s nerves were apparently still a trifle un- 
strung from his unpleasant dream ; for he answered 
Little John rather querulously. 

“Ah, Little John! ” he said. “ Thou settest no 
store by me ; and that’s a strange thing. How often 
hast thou seen me send my men before and tarry 
behind myself? It is nothing to know a man if 
one can but hear him speak. If it were not 
for breaking my bow, I would break open thy 
head!” 

Little John looked very much hurt. 

“ I have not deserved this of thee, master,” he 
said ; and with that he parted the bushes, and strode 
away, leaving Robin by himself until his temper 
should cool. Little John felt greatly ruffled at his 
master’s tone and manner; but as he walked along 
towards Bernysdale, the sweet air and the pleasant 
songs of the birds soothed his angry spirit. When 
he came at last to the town, he found three of his 
comrades running, and the Sheriff, with some seven 
score of men, in hot pursuit. 

“ Yet one shot I’ll shoot,” quoth Little John, 
bending his bow, “ and make Gilbert of the White 
Hand who flees so fast before yon Sheriff’s man to 
be both glad and joyous.” And with that he bent 
his bow, but alas ! the bow was made of wood that 
was too tender, and it fell useless at Little John’s 
feet. 

“ Woe worth thee, wicked wood!” said Little 
John. He was greatly dismayed. “ This day 
325 


ROBIN HOOD 


thou art my bane when thou shouldst be my salva- 
tion.” 

The arrow had fled from the bow, however; and 
it chanced to kill one of the Sheriff’s men, William 
a Trent. Then, seeing that Little John was 
weaponless, the rest of the Sheriff’s men sur- 
rounded him with a great shout, and captured him, 
and bound him to a tree. 

The Sheriff came up and shook his fist in Little 
John’s face. 

“ Thou shalt be drawn over dale and down,” he 
said, chuckling with glee that Robin Hood’s most 
famous man was really in his power; “ and lastly, 
thou shalt be hanged high on a hill.” 

Little John gazed back at him disdainfully. 

“ Thou mayest yet fail in thy intent, Master 
Sheriff,” he said, “ if it be the will of God.” 

Meanwhile, back in the forest, Robin had walked 
slowly towards the queer looking stranger, dressed 
in the horse’s hide. 

“Good morrow, good fellow!” quoth the 
stranger haughtily. “ Methinks by this bow thou 
dost bear in thy hand, thou seemest to be a good 
archer. I have lost my way, and I do not even 
know what hour it is.” 

“ I’ll lead thee through this wood, if thou wilt,” 
quoth Robin courteously. “ I’ll gladly be thy 
guide.” 

The stranger looked at him sharply. 

326 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ I seek an outlaw in this forest,” he said. “ Men 
call him Robin Hood. Knowest thou aught of 
him? I’d rather meet with him to-day than have 
forty pounds of gold.” 

“ If you two meet,” observed Robin coolly, “ it 
would soon be seen which is the better. Let us find 
some other pastime, prithee, as we go through the 
woods. We may perchance meet with Robin 
Hood. Meanwhile what if we try a little shooting 
together? ” 

“Agreed! ” cried he of the horse’s hide; and then 
very amicably, they began to cut down some slender 
wands to serve as targets. 

“Lead on, good fellow!” quoth the stranger, 
when the wands were in place, “ lead on, I bid 
thee!” 

“ Nav, by my faith! ” said Robin. “ Thou shalt 
shoot first.” 

The stranger shot, but his arrow landed a good 
six inches from the wand. Robin’s came within an 
inch. The stranger’s second shot was within the 
garland that they had hung upon the wand; but 
Robin cleft the wand itself. 

“ God’s blessing on thy heart,” quoth the 
stranger warmly, “ thy shooting is good. If thy 
heart be as good as thy hand, thou art better than 
Robin Hood himself. Tell me thy name, under 
these leaves by the brookside.” 

“ Nay, by my faith,” said Robin, “ I will not 
tell thee my name until thou hast told me thine.” 

327 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ I dwell by dale and down,” answered the other. 
“ I have done much evil in my time. My name is 
Guy of Gisborne.” 

“ My dwelling is in the greenwood,” said Robin. 
“ The tale of thy wicked deeds frights me not. I 
am he whom thou dost seek. My name is Robin 
Hood.” 

“ Robin Hood! ” repeated Guy of Gisborne in a 
tone of mingled surprise and rage. “ Robin 
Hood! Then have at thee, fellow! ” and he drew 
his sword. 

Robin, nothing loth, drew his own; and at once 
a furious fight began. 

They were well matched; and at the end of two 
hours, neither had the advantage. Finally, how- 
ever, possibly because he was a little tired, Robin 
stumbled on a root, and Guy hit him on the left side. 

“Ah, dear Lady,” cried Robin, “ who art both 
Mother and Maid, it was never a man’s destiny to 
die before his day. Methinks my day hath not 
come ! ” And with that he leaped up and with a 
mighty stroke he thrust Sir Guy through the heart, 
and he fell dead at Robin’s feet. 

“ Lie there,” said Robin gravely, looking down 
at the body of his late antagonist. “ Be not wroth 
with me that I have killed thee. If thou hast had 
the worst stroke at my hand, thou shalt now have 
the better clothes.” 

So saying, he doffed his suit of Lincoln green, 
and put it on the dead man; and he dressed him- 
328 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


self in Sir Guy’s curious array, the horse’s hide, 
with its flowing mane and tail. 

“ Now my bow and arrow, my little horn I’ll 
bear with me to Bernysdale,” said Robin; “ and I’ll 
see how my men fare.” 

So he went on through the forest; and after 
a while, as he came near the town, he began to blow 
Sir Guy’s horn. 

The Sheriff heard it as he stood near Little John, 
still bound fast to a tree. 

“Hearken!” said the Sheriff, listening. “I 
hear good tidings. There is Sir Guy’s horn blow- 
ing, and that can mean only that he hath slain Robin 
Hood! ” and he glanced maliciously at Little John, 
to see how he would take the news. 

Little John moved never a muscle, but his heart 
was heavy within him. 

“And yonder,” went on the Sheriff, peering 
eagerly through the trees, “ yonder comes Sir Guy 
himself, clad in his horse’s hide.” 

Then bounding gayly through the trees came 
Robin Hood with Sir Guy’s horse’s hide drawn 
closely about his face. When he saw Little John 
bound and helpless, he gave a great start of sur- 
prise; but Little John’s eyes were on the ground, 
and he did not realize that Robin was there. 

“ Come hither, thou good Sir Guy ! ” cried the 
Sheriff joyously, not for a moment recognizing 
Robin. “ Hast thou indeed killed that scurvy out- 
law?” 


329 


ROBIN HOOD 


“Ay, but I’ll none of thy gold,” answered Robin 
gruffly, imitating Sir Guy’s harsh voice. “ Now 
I’ve slain the master, let me in reward go strike yon 
knave, his follower. That is all the reward I ask, 
and no other will I have.” 

“ Thou art a madman,” said the Sheriff. “ For 
slaying Robin Hood thou shouldst have had a 
knight’s fee. Since thou dost ask no more, how- 
ever, thy boon is granted.” 

Little John had lifted his head quickly at the 
sound of his master’s voice; for he had recognized 
it instantly through all Robin’s disguise of gruff- 
ness. 

“ Now shall I be loosed if Christ lend us His 
might! ” thought Little John. 

Robin went over to him, and immediately the 
Sheriff’s men followed. 

“Stand back!” quoth Robin, glaring at them 
fiercely from under the shadow of the horse’s mane. 
“ Why draw ye so near? I will hear this villain’s 
shrift, see you! ” And even while the Sheriff and 
his men roared at the jest, he whipped out his knife, 
and cutting Little John’s bonds, handed him Sir 
Guy’s bow. 

Little J ohn took the bow in his hands, and fitted 
one of Sir Guy’s arrows to the string. He pointed it 
at the Sheriff, who immediately started to run. Sir 
Guy’s bow did not fail Little John as his own had 
done; and his aim was true. Steadily he sighted 
the Sheriff’s fleeing figure, and let the arrow go. 

330 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


The Sheriff fell, shot through the heart by Sir 
Guy’s arrow. 

So perished Robin Hood’s worst enemy, the 
Sheriff of Nottingham. 


331 


XXXIII 


HOW SIR WILLIAM FOUGHT WITH 
ROBIN HOOD 


Therefore a true and trusty knight 
The King was pleased to call , 

Sir William by name; when to him he came, 
He told him his pleasure all. 


XXXIII 


HOW SIR WILLIAM FOUGHT WITH ROBIN HOOD 

For many years Robin Hood and his merry men 
had reigned in the greenwood. Prince John was 
only too willing to listen to tales against the 
bold outlaw, and the jokes and pranks and 
more serious punishments that Robin had in- 
flicted on the unworthy monks and friars were 
brought before the Prince as the chief griev- 
ance against him. Nothing was said of his de- 
vout love for the Church, or of his practical kind- 
ness to the poor; of his respect for the good priests 
and the cloistered men and women who lived ac- 
cording to their profession. Prince John called a 
council of state to decide what was best to be done 
to quell the pride of Robin and his merry men. 

They consulted together for a whole summer’s 
day. Then it was agreed that one knight should be 
sent to try to capture Robin. Prince John selected 
a trusty and worthy knight called Sir William. 
The Prince said to him: 

“ Go you from hence to bold Robin Hood, and 
bid him without more ado to surrender himself, or 
he shall suffer along with all his followers. Take 
with you one hundred brave archers, all chosen men 
of might, in armor, ready to take thy part.” 

335 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ My sovereign liege,” then said Sir William, 
“ they shall be led by me. I’ll venture my blood 
against bold Robin, and bring him alive or dead.” 

Straightway then one hundred archers were 
chosen and at Midsummer they marched away to- 
gether to conquer the bold outlaw, Robin Hood. 
With long yew bows and shining spears, they 
marched with much pride, and never delayed or 
halted until they came to Sherwood. 

Then said Sir William to his archers : 

“ Tarry here, and make ready your bows that if 
need should arise, you may follow me. See you 
observe my call. I’ll go in person first with the let- 
ters of my good Prince. If Robin Hood will yield 
at sight of these, all signed and sealed as they are, 
we need not draw our bows at all.” 

So Sir William wandered about in search of 
Robin, and at length he reached the outlaw’s cave, 
and showed him the Prince’s letter. On reading it, 
Robin arose and stood on his guard. 

“ They’ll have me surrender, and lie at their 
mercy,” he said; “ but tell them that shall never be 
while I have seven score men.” 

Sir William was very angry at these words, and 
made as if he would seize Robin; but Little John 
stepped forward and caught the knight’s wrist in a 
mighty grip. 

Then Robin set his horn to his mouth and blew 
three blasts. Sir William did the like, and great 
scores of men came running through the trees 
336 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


Then Sir William drew up his men with care, 
and placed them in battle array, and bold Robin did 
the same. Forthwith began a bloody fray. 

On both sides the archers bent their bows, and the 
clouds of arrows flew. At the very first flight Sir 
William was slain. Nevertheless, the fight went on 
from early in the morning until almost noon. Both 
parties were stout and loath to yield. All this hap- 
pened on the last day of June. 

Although the battle was over some of the men 
went back to London, and with right good will they 
went. Robin himself, sorely wounded, returned to 
his cave in the greenwood, as did most of his men. 
Some of the archers crossed the seas to Flanders, 
France and Spain, and others even as far as Rome. 

Alas ! Robin Hood was not to die in battle, but 
through treachery, as you shall later hear. 


337 












































. 























































XXXIV 


HOW THE KING CAME TO SHERWOOD 


King Richard, hearing of the pranks 
Of Robin Hood and his men, 

He much admired and more desired 
To see both him and them. 


XXXIV 


HOW THE KING CAME TO SHERWOOD 

Now King Richard was a gallant king; but his 
brother J ohn, who was reigning in his stead during 
Richard’s absence in the Holy Land, was of a very 
different type. Great tales were brought to Prince 
John of the outrageous doings of Robin and his 
men; and especially of the death of the Sheriff of 
Nottingham. One of the first things that King 
Richard heard when he came back to England was 
this last occurrence; but strange to say, even that 
did not have quite the effect on His Majesty that 
was intended. Richard and Robin, although they 
had never met, were not unlike in temperament; 
and when the King heard of some of Robin’s do- 
ings, he roared with laughter, and slapped his knees 
in keen enjoyment. 

“ Methinks,” he said, on one of these occasions, 
“ methinks I should like to meet this outlaw. I 
will hie me to Nottingham.” 

No sooner said than done; for King Richard was 
a man of action; and he set out for Nottingham 
forthwith. When he arrived there, he found the 
people all agog over the Sheriff’s death. So jubi- 
lant were they that the King was ill-pleased. 

341 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ The Sheriff, it is said, was a faithful servant of 
the Crown,” he said. “ This outlaw must be pun- 
ished. How can I best find Robin Hood? ” 

“ Marry, sir,” replied one of the townsmen to 
whom he had addressed this question, “ if ye will see 
good Robin, take five of your best knights, and go 
down to yon Abbey and borrow monkish weeds. So 
disguised, I will lead you on the way whereby ye 
may come to Robin.” 

“ Well said!” cried the King. “We will 
straight to the Abbey, and borrow some of their 
robes.” 

So without more ado the King and five of his 
men went down to the Abbey near at hand, and 
soon six monks were to be seen riding towards 
Sherwood, led by one of the men of Nottingham. 
The King was dressed as an Abbot, with a gray 
gown, broad hat and stiff boots. 

They had ridden about a mile into the forest 
when Robin Hood himself stepped out and stood in 
their way. 

Robin thought, of course, that he was stopping 
an Abbot and his monks. He laid his hand on the 
bridle of the King’s horse. 

“Sir Abbot,” he said cheerfully, “ by your leave 
you must abide a while. We be yeomen of this for- 
est under the greenwood tree. We live by our 
King’s deer. You have both churches and rents, 
and plenty of gold. Give us some of your spend- 
ing for sweet Charity’s sake! ” 

342 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


Then said the King: 

“ I brought only forty pounds to the greenwood 
with me. I have lain at Nottingham this fortnight 
with our King; and much have I spent. That is 
the reason that I have only forty pounds. If I had 
an hundred pounds/' he added graciously, for he 
was a courtly King, and besides liked Robin's looks 
and manner, “ if I had an hundred pounds, I would 
gladly give it thee." 

This was not at all the usual way of speaking on 
the part of the monks that Robin waylaid, and the 
outlaw looked astonished. Moreover, the King 
handed over his purse without being compelled. 
Robin took the purse, and found that it had in it 
truly but forty pounds. He divided the sum into 
halves. Then he put back twenty pounds into the 
King’s purse, and returned it to him. 

“ Sir," he said courteously, “ have this for your 
spending. We shall meet another day." 

“ Gramercy! ” said the King. “ Now I have a 
message for thee from His Majesty that thou must 
come to Nottingham to answer to him for certain 
matters, notably the murder of the Sheriff of Not- 
tingham. Behold his seal ! " and he showed Robin 
his own ring. 

At sight of the King’s seal, Robin knelt on the 
greensward. 

“ I love no man in all the world so well as I do 
my King! " he said. “ Welcome is his seal to me; 
and, Sir Abbot, because of thy tidings, and for love 
343 


ROBIN HOOD 


of our King, thou shalt dine with me to-day under 
my try sting tree.” 

Now these words pleased the King right well; for 
it was chiefly to see Robin and his men that he had 
come to the forest. He dismounted from his horse, 
as did his attendants; and then Robin set his horn 
to his lips, and blew his accustomed signal. 

In answer to the summons came his seven score 
of goodly men all dressed in green, and straightway 
they bent the knee to Robin, and did him homage. 

“ By the blessed St. Augustine,” the King mut- 
tered to himself, “ here is a wondrous seemly sight! 
Methinks his men are more at his bidding than mine 
are at my command.” 

Then the King was led off to dinner, and was 
made welcome by Marian and fair Ellen; and they 
sat down to a goodly feast of venison with plenty 
of wine and ale. Friar Tuck asked the blessing, 
and while the meal progressed, Alan a Dale played 
softly on his harp. 

‘‘Make good cheer, Abbot, for charity!” cried 
Robin hospitably. “For these same tidings that 
thou hast brought me from our gallant King, thou 
art right welcome! Now,” he added, as at last the 
meal was over, “ now shalt thou see what life we 
lead ere thou dost leave us. Then mayst thou tell 
the King thereof when next thou seest him.” 

At a word from Robin all the men started up in 
haste, and bent their bows as one man. The King, 
brave as he was, looked startled for a moment ; but 
3 44 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


they did not shoot. Instead, with merry talk and 
laughter, they trooped to a little spaee not far from 
the tree where they had dined, — a spot evidently 
used as a field for shooting matches. Two willow 
wands were placed there as targets, each with a 
garland of roses hung upon it. 

“ By Our Lady,” the King exclaimed, as he saw 
these preparations, “ that mark is too long by fifty 
paces. Their arrows will never hit.” 

“ Thou shalt see, Sir Abbot,” replied Robin cour- 
teously. Then he rose in his place, and raised his 
hand for silence. 

“ Whoever fails to hit within the garland,” said 
Robin, “ shall lose his bow and arrows, and yield 
them to his master, be they never so fine. No man 
will I spare this penalty; and also he shall have a 
buffet on his head for his ill shooting! ” and his eyes 
twinkled as he bared his strong right arm. 

Then the shooting began, and the King watched 
it breathless with admiration. Nearly all the archers 
hit the wand, or at least came within the garland; 
if any failed to do the latter, he went gravely over 
to Robin without more ado, and took his punish- 
ment. At last Robin himself shot; and as always 
he cleft the wand. So indeed did Gilbert of the 
White Hand, and Little John, and Will Stutely. 
Finally, however, even Robin grew a little tired; 
and lo! his last shot failed of the garland by at least 
three fingers’ lengths. 

There was a great good-natured shout of laugh- 
345 


ROBIN HOOD 


ter from the outlaws at their master’s poor 
aim. 

“ Now,” quoth Gilbert, grinning, “ thy bow and 
arrows are forfeit also; and thou too must stand 
forth and take thy pay.” 

Robin had joined in the laugh against himself. 

“If it be so, it may no better be,” he answered 
Gilbert cheerily. “ Sir Abbot, I deliver my bow 
and arrows to you, and do you give me my 
buffet.” 

“ Nay, it becometh not my order,” said the King, 
with seeming reluctance, “ to smite a good yeoman 
lest I should sorely hurt him.” 

“ Nay, smite boldly, good Abbot! ” cried Robin. 
“ I give thee leave to do thy worst.” 

With that the King rolled up his sleeve, and 
showed an arm strangely stout and muscular for an 
abbot. The next instant he gave Robin such a 
buffet that the latter nearly measured his length on 
the ground. 

“ I make my vow to God,” quoth Robin admir- 
ingly, even while he rubbed his aching head, “ I 
make my vow to God thou art a stalwart brother. 
There is pith in thy arm. I trow thou canst shoot 
well also.” 

Then the King removed his broad abbot’s hat, 
and Robin at last saw his face distinctly; and there 
was something in his smile and in his kingly bearing 
that told Robin who it was that stood before him. 
The gallant outlaw fell on his knees. 

346 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ My lord, the King of England,” said Robin, 
“ now I know you well! ” 

“ Mercy, then, Robin, under this trysting tree of 
yours,” said the King, smiling, “ for my men and 
me.” 

“ Yea, before God! ” said Robin solemnly. “ So 
God save me ! I too ask mercy, my lord the King, 
for my men and me! ” 

“Yea, before God!” replied the King, no less 
gravely; “ for to see thee came I hither. Now in- 
deed thou art a noble after my own heart, and noble 
by birth I know thee to be. Rise, Robert, Earl of 
Huntingdon! I restore to thee thy title and thy 
lands, on condition that thou wilt come back to 
court and be my true servant.” 

“ So shall it be!” said Robin. “I will indeed 
come to your court and be your true servant; and 
my merry men shall go with me; but,” he added, 
gazing about him at the great forest trees with a 
certain wistfulness in his eyes, “ but if I like not thy 
service, I will leave the court and come back again 
to the greenwood.” 

Then Robin brought forth coats of green for the 
King and his men; and they doffed their monkish 
garb, and appeared as foresters. The King spent 
the night with Robin; and the next morning, Robin 
and Marian, and all their followers left Sherwood, 
and rode back with the King to Nottingham. 

The townspeople thought at first that Robin and 
his men had slain the King, because Richard was 
347 


ROBIN HOOD 


dressed in forest green like all the rest. They be- 
gan to run away, fearing that the outlaws had come 
to take possession of the town; but when the King 
spoke to them they were satisfied that all was well. 

So it was that Robin and his men left Sherwood 
Forest, and Robert, Earl of Huntingdon, came into 
his own again. 


348 


XXXV 


THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD 


Lay me a green sod under my head , 

And another at my feet ; 

And lay my bent bow by my side , 

Which was my music sweet ; 

And make my grave of gravel and green, 
Which is most right and meet. 


XXXV, 

THE DEATH OF KOBIN HOOD 

Robin lived at the court for more than a year, 
and, as he had promised, he was a good servant to 
the King. It was not, however, a happy year for 
him. The ceremony of the court was a constant 
irritation to him, for he had known from boyhood 
nothing save the free life of the greenwood. For 
various reasons, too, the merry men whom he had 
brought with him from the forest gradually fell 
away. Some married, and settled down to the com- 
monplace joys of the city. A few died, because the 
indoor life did not agree with them; and others were 
unhappy at the court and made their way back to 
Sherwood. Will Scarlet and his princess were still 
in London, but at last, of the men who had come 
with Robin himself to the city, only Will Stutely 
and Little John were left. Worst of all, during 
that twelvemonth, the great grief of his life came to 
Robin; for his dear Marian died. 

In regard to her death, Robin tormented himself 
with quite unnecessary reproaches. He wondered 
whether he would have had her still if they had con- 
tinued their old free life in the greenwood. He 
351 


ROBIN HOOD 


thought over again all the incidents that had led to 
her final illness, and tried to discover whether there 
was any way in which he might have prevented this 
or that or the other thing. They had never had any 
children, so Robin was bereft of that comfort. 
One day, not long after Marian was buried, 
Robin stood by a casement in the palace, looking 
sadly out into the courtyard; and he happened to 
see a group of young men shooting at a target. 

“Alas! ” quoth Robin gloomily. “ My wealth is 
all gone! Sometime I was an archer good, both 
stiff and strong, the best in merry England, it was 
said. If I dwell here longer with the King, I shall 
be slain with sorrow ! ” and heaving a great sigh, he 
went in search of King Richard. 

“ My lord, the King of England,” he said, bend- 
ing the knee to His Majesty when he found him, 
“ give me my asking, I pray you ! I made a chapel 
in Bernysdale where my sweet Marian lies buried, 
as you know. Thither would I, and pray for seven 
days and nights at her tomb. I pray you let me 
go.” . 

The King looked at him very gently. 

“ If it be so it may no better be,” he said. “ Go 
for the seven nights, dear Robin, but prithee let it 
be no longer. I go shortly to Jerusalem again, and 
I had hoped for thy company thither.” 

Robin looked at him yearningly. 

“ It would like me well,” he said slowly, “ to see 
the Holy Sepulchre, and to tread the land where 
352 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


Our dear Lord did go His earthly ways; but — I 
know not, Your Majesty, whether I shall ever do 
so. I know only that now I must seek my Marian’s 
last resting-place. Gramercy, dear Majesty, for 
thy leave to fulfill my desire.” And he kissed the 
King’s hand, and left him. 

Then he went in search of Little John and Will 
Stutely, and together the three faithful comrades 
left the court, and travelled to the chapel where 
Marian lay buried. When the week was over, how- 
ever, they did not go back to the court. One merry 
morning they sought the greenwood together; and 
when Robin saw the sweet forest, and caught the 
old-time odors of the trees and the flowers, and 
heard the birds’ clear singing, his sorrowful eyes 
lighted for the first time since Marian’s death. 

“ It is passing long since I was last here,” he said 
to his two faithful comrades. “ Methinks I will 
e’en shoot a little, and try whether all my skill be 
gone!” And with the words, as if to give him 
opportunity, a great hart came bounding through 
the trees. Robin seized his bow, and with his old 
unerring aim brought the hart down with a single 
shot. 

Then, half smiling, he set his horn to his lips and 
blew it as of old; and lo! at the familiar summons, 
there came running through the trees great num- 
bers of men dressed in forest green. How their 
faces lighted with joy when they saw their old-time 
leader; and with one accord, they bent the knee be- 
353 


ROBIN HOOD 


fore him as he stood between Little John and Will 
Stutely. 

“ Welcome, dear master,” they cried, “ welcome 
to the greenwood! ” 

So no more of the court for Robin. He went 
back once to make his final farewell to the King; 
but by that time Richard had gone to the Holy 
Land again, and Robin received scant welcome 
from Prince John. He returned to his old life in 
the greenwood, and during King Richard’s time he 
was never molested. At last, however, the King 
died, far away from England, and his successor, 
King John, was a very different man. He swore 
that he would rid England of that bold outlaw, 
Robin Hood; and while Robin and his men escaped 
capture and death for many years, they were never- 
theless much harassed. Besides, Robin was no 
longer a young man, and it went hard with him to 
elude his captors, and play tricks upon them, as he 
had done so merrily in the past. 

The day came at last when Robin fell very ill. 
At that time little was known about medicine, and 
it was the custom when people needed bodily treat- 
ment to go to a leech. A leech was a man or a 
woman who would let out a certain amount of the 
patient’s blood, usually by cutting a vein; and it 
was supposed that most human ills could be cured 
in this way. 

Accordingly, when he felt very weak and miser- 
able one day, Robin said to Little John: 

354 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


“ I am not able to shoot one shot more. My 
broad arrows will no longer flee whither I wish. I 
will to Ivirkly Abbey, and get the Prioress there to 
bleed me; for she is a famous leech.” 

It was the first time Little John had ever heard 
his master complain of illness, and he was 
consequently very much worried; but he said 
only: 

“As thou wilt, master. I will go with thee 
thither.” 

“ Good sooth I were not able to go alone even if I 
would! ” said Robin smiling somewhat ruefully; for 
he had never in his life been ill before. 

So the two went to Kirkly Abbey, and knocked 
at the door, and the Prioress let them in. When 
she saw Robin, she looked at him with a smile on 
her lips but with evil in her heart, for it chanced that 
one of Robin’s good deeds had been to see justice 
done to a poor widow, who had been wronged by a 
man called Roger of Doncaster. Roger and the 
Prioress were great friends; and when she saw 
Robin, she realized that it was in her power to 
avenge what she considered Roger’s wrongs. She 
smiled on Robin, however, and spoke with smooth 
courtesy. 

“ Will it please thee, bold Robin,” she said, “ to 
sit down and eat and drink with me? ” 

“ Nay,” answered Robin, and his voice was faint; 
“ I have come to be bled by thee, good Prioress, for 
I have heard thou art a famous leech.” 

355 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ Gladly will I bleed thee,” she answered. 
“ Come then to a retired room in one of the turrets, 
where thou canst be undisturbed. Thy man may 
wait for thee outside.” 

Little John looked ill-pleased at this; for he had 
intended to stay with his master; but Robin Hood 
said: 

“Ay, let it be so. Go, Little John, and when it 
is over, the Prioress will call thee.” 

“As thou wilt, dear master,” said Little John 
submissively; “ but I shall not be far away.” 

So he left Robin with the Prioress, and went and 
stretched his huge length just outside the Abbey 
door. The Prioress took Robin by the hand, and 
led him to a remote room, high up in one of the 
turrets. There she bled him indeed; for instead of 
merely opening a small vein, as was the custom in 
such cases, she severed one of the great arteries. 
Then as he lay, weaker than ever and very faint 
from loss of blood, she placed a dish to catch the 
heavy flow, and went off and left him, as she 
thought, to die alone. 

At first, Robin suspected nothing. He lay, 
nearly unconscious, feeling worse than he had in the 
beginning, but hoping every moment that he would 
improve. Then, as time passed, and the blood kept 
flowing, he began to fear that something must be 
wrong. All night long he lay there, and the next 
morning he was scarcely able to stagger to his feet. 
He wavered to the door, and found it locked. Then 
356 


AND HIS MERRY MEN 


he managed to reach the open window; but he saw 
that it was too high up from the ground for him to 
leap from it, even if he had been strong enough to 
do so. He realized that he was caught in a trap by 
the false Prioress. 

Nevertheless Little John the faithful had prom- 
ised that he would not be far away. Robin’s whirl- 
ing brain remembered that. He managed to stag- 
ger back to the couch, and falling upon it, fumbled 
for his trusty hom. 

Three weak and wavering blasts indeed were 
those last notes that Robin blew; but love’s ear is 
quick, and Little John heard them where he 
had lain sleepless all night without the Abbey 
door. 

“Alas! ” said Little John, springing to his feet. 
“ I fear my master is near death, so weakly doth he 
blow!” 

He ran up the Abbey steps, and knocked furi- 
ously upon the door. He waited a moment, but 
there was no response. 

“Here is some evil coil indeed!” quoth Little 
John, and with that he lunged heavily against the 
door with all his giant bulk and mighty strength. 
It gave, and he fell into the hall at full length; then 
scrambled to his feet and ran towards the staircase. 
At its foot the Prioress faced him, very white and 
defiant. 

“ Out of my way, woman ! ” cried Little J ohn 
furiously. “ Tell me where is my master? ” 

357 


ROBIN HOOD 


“ He sleeps after his bleeding,” answered the 
Prioress. “ I charge you, disturb him not.” 

“Ay,” shouted Little John, almost sobbing with 
rage and grief, “ ay, I fear me he sleeps indeed and 
will never wake. Lead me at once where he is, or, 
Prioress as thou art, thy habit shall not save thee! ” 
and he drew his sword and looked so threatening as 
he towered above her that the Prioress trembled 
and yielded, although much against her will. At 
the point of Little John’s sword, she led him up to 
the turret room and unlocked the door at his stern 
command; then fled before he could harm her. 

Little John thought no more of her at the mo- 
ment. He saw before him his dear master, lying so 
white and still that the giant feared him dead. 

“ O master, master! ” cried Little John sobbing, 
falling on his knees beside the couch. 

The sound of that dearly loved voice aroused 
Robin from his death-like stupor. He put his hand 
feebly on Little John’s and faintly spoke his name. 

“A boon, a boon, master! ” sobbed Little John, as 
he kissed the beloved hand. 

“And what is thy boon, Little John?” asked 
Robin in his sighing thread of a voice. 

“It is to burn this accursed place and all the 
nuns within it! ” answered Little John, sobbing still 
as he spoke, and grinding his teeth in impotent rage. 

Robin stirred and spoke more naturally. 

“ Nay, now. Little John,” he said. “ I’ll not 
grant thee that boon. I never hurt woman in all 
358 


Robin drew his bow and shot his last arrow. 





















AND HIS MERRY MEN 


my life, nor woman in man’s company ; so it would 
ill beseem me now at my end to do so. Thou hast 
never loved a woman, Little John, or thou wouldst 
love all women for her sake.” Then his eyes closed, 
and for a moment Little John thought him gone; 
but he roused himself again by a mighty effort. 

“ Give me my bow and a broad arrow, Little 
John,” he said, almost in his natural voice; and 
swiftly Little John did so. “ Now,” said Robin, 
his eyes dim with approaching death, “ where this 
arrow is taken up, let them dig my grave.” Then 
he murmured, his thoughts wandering to Sherwood, 
“ Lay me a green sod under my head, and another 
at my feet. At my side put my bent bow which hath 
ever made sweet music for me; and let my grave be 
of gravel and of green. Give me length and 
breadth enough therein, dear Little John, and for- 
get not the green sod for my head. I would lie at 
the last upon the soft bosom of the forest.” 

Then waveringly he sat upright, aided by Little 
John, and for the last time Robin drew his bow, and 
shot his last arrow. Then his arms fell limp, his 
eyes closed, and he sank heavily against Little 
John’s broad breast. 

So Robin died; and he was buried as he had 
wished where his arrow had fallen. Over his grave 
was placed this epitaph : 

Robert, Earl of Huntingdon 
Lies under this little stone. 

359 


ROBIN HOOD 


No archer was like him so good ; 

His wildness named him Robin Hood. 
Full thirteen years and something more 
These northern parts he vexed sore. 
Such outlaws as he and his men 
May England never know again! 


THE END 


360 

















